The Castaway Prince
by ClockMaker411
Summary: After coming to her rescue, Kallen is given a chance to show her feelings for Lelouch. How will that confession bear on his already tremulous relationship with C.C., who has, unbeknownst to him, claimed him for herself? Lemon, erotica, 18 and over.
1. Rescue

Standard Disclaimer: Code Geass and its characters are not my property, etc. If you're offended by explicit, mature themes, then read on and let me try to change your mind. 18+ please.

Timeline Note: This chapter takes place after Kallen is captured in R2, Episode 11.

* * *

**The Castaway Prince - A Code Geass Lemon Fanfiction by ClockMaker411**

Chapter 1 - Rescue

"Knight of Seven, Kururugi Suzaku, to see the prisoner." The lieutenant glanced up toward the main monitor at the interruption, narrowing his dark brown eyes in silent consideration. Fingertips light as they deftly manipulated the controls of the touchpad, he brought up three angled views of the honorary Britannian standing resolutely in front of the door to the holding cell. The young man had a thin, silver briefcase tucked beneath one arm. The lieutenant turned his swivel chair to look up at his superior.

"Chief, should we let him through?" The larger man regarded the display screens with a furrowed brow, his thick arms crossed in front of a broad, barrel chest. His lips compressed into a fine line of disapproval as the two uniformed guards stationed in front of the prisoner's isolation cell stepped to either side of the entrance, each affecting a deep bow. The door slid open of its own accord, the accompanying pneumatic hiss inaudible from the monitor.

The lieutenant cursed under his breath, turning back to the touch screen before him. He had to remember to reprimand the pair of them the next time he toured the cells. As if sensing his thoughts, the chief spoke in a gruff but arresting voice. "Can we blame them, Lieutenant Arturo? Kururugi is a Knight of Rounds, after all." The chief sank bank into the chair, his right hand tapping the synthetic leather of the arm rest as his left stroked the short, trimmed beard at his chin.

"Knight or not," the younger man spoke over his shoulder, "they should wait for authorization before allowing anyone to see the prisoner." It was Arturo's belief that order depended upon strict observance of regulations; laxity in such regards, no matter how small, could threaten to topple that order. Yes, he would remember to speak to those soldiers, and insure that such a breach did not happen again.

"He's an anomaly, that one," the chief said in reply, giving a casual wave of his hand. "Not only is he a Knight of Rounds, but a Number, too. Who would have thought an Eleven could rise to so high a position?" He grunted in vague distaste. "The soldiers are uneasy around him – they don't know what to make of him." The large man watched the screens as the white-clad figure stepped into the cell, standing for a moment at its threshold, before vanishing beyond the view of the cameras. It was a Britannian policy that the interior of a holding cell was not monitored, so as to keep what went on in such cells completely off the digital record.

Arturo turned in his chair to face the elder man, his own arms now folded. "And that's precisely the reason why – she is an Eleven too, is she not? This ace of the Black Knights… If Kururugi were to betray us and escape with her…" The chief dismissed the notion with a shake of his head. Arturo, annoyed at being so wordlessly rebuffed, returned to studying the display screens at his station.

"Still," came the chief's voice from behind, in idle comment, "I didn't expect to see him here today. I heard he was supposed to be testing a new Float System for the Lancelot." He seemed unconcerned.

Before he could reply, a sudden jolt slammed Arturo onto the control panels over which he hunched. Even in his groggy haze, he could see the flashing red signals of alarm on the screens beneath him, and hear the sirens blaring in his ears. He shook his head, regaining his senses, and realized that the chief was issuing orders.

"It's the Black Knights! – They've come to rescue the prisoner! – Send a company of men to the isolation cells to secure her! – Alert Second Prince Schneizel of the attack! – Ready the Knightmare Frames for immediate deployment!–" Arturo's fingers worked frantically at the display screens, never noticing, in one corner of his monitor, that the door to the isolation cell remained open, although guarded.

* * *

"Who's there…?" The voice from the dark enclosure had an edge to it, a pretense of anger masking the uncertainty, and moreover, the fear, lying hidden beneath. He stepped forward into the dimness, so that the strong light from the outer corridor would cease to shadow his features with its luminous outline. "Suzaku?" The voice filled with contempt. "I have nothing to say to you. Leave."

He touched his throat, fingers working beneath the tight collar of the white uniform. "Oh?" It was not Suzaku's voice that came from his lips now, but his own, and that was a comfort – it had been disquieting to hear his own voice inside his head, and that of another on his ears, as he had spoken. But it was now time to abandon the charade.

Kallen sat up as best she could, secured as she was in the white prisoner's uniform, banded irregularly with belts of black. "You're not…" she trailed off, her blue eyes narrowing in the darkness. "Zero?"

He chuckled, bowing his head slightly and reaching up with his free hand, removing the digital prosthetic face mask that Villetta had provided for him. "Glad to see you've followed my orders, Q1." He knelt by her, his hands deftly working at unfastening the buckled restraints that held her soundly in the uniform. In a few moments, she was free – he wasn't unaccustomed to the buckles, having found C.C in similar garb. He stood, taking Kallen up with him.

"We don't have much time–" His words were cut off by an abrupt explosion, its tremor nearly causing him to lose his balance. Kallen gripped his upper arms, steadying herself, squeezing almost painfully. After she had regained herself, he brought the slim briefcase up between them. "Soldiers' uniforms. Put one on. Quickly now." The case slid open, and he took one, pressing it to her middle, before taking the other for himself. "I'll turn around while you dress, so don't worry." He gave her a small smirk over his shoulder as he faced away, already stripping the gold-embroidered white Knight of Rounds uniform from off his body and replacing it with the black and gray of a soldier.

Kallen watched him for a moment, blushing slightly in the dim light, before a punctuated look from Lelouch brought her back to her senses. That embarrassed her further – he had said he wouldn't look, after all. Her cheeks reddened, but she did as she was asked, the whites of her prison garb joining his on the floor of the cell. When she was dressed, he grabbed her hand, leading her out the door. Another jolt caused him to yank her forward with one arm, holding her against him, while the other braced himself on the frame of the doorway as the tremor passed.

From within the darkness of the cell, Lelouch called to the two guards flanking the outer entrance. "Your helmets and your weapons, give them to me." Quickly they complied, standing straight and facing forward upon surrendering what he had asked. The magenta of the Geass shone brilliantly in their eyes. Lelouch handed a helmet and pistol to Kallen, urging her to move quickly through the doorway and down the corridor.

"Zero, what's happening? Are we really trying to attack the Avalon?" He gave her a cool look over his shoulder, pulling her harder as they ran. He didn't have to pull that hard, she thought, and she knew that he wouldn't be able to maintain the pace for long. He was starting to become winded.

"It's a diversion," he said between breaths, "but it should be convincing enough for what I have planned." Taking a sharp left turn down a smaller corridor, Lelouch led them to a small offshoot, what proved to be a maintenance tunnel. "Right about now, C.C. will be demanding your release. As Zero, of course." He lifted a half-recessed hatch, revealing a vertical maintenance tube, its metal ladder descending further into the depths of the ship. Heaving himself through, he began to descend. "With C.C. in Shinkirou and Li Xingke in Shenhu, the threat will be substantial." He looked up, just to make sure that she was following, but then diverted his gaze. The uniform fit her a bit too well, being especially tight around the hips. An observer would certainly have little doubt that she was female.

"And what about the Knights of Rounds? Where's the real Suzaku?" She looked down at him, from between her legs, as she descended. Within his helmet, she saw that his face was flushed – was he this worn out already?

"Ashford Academy," he said with a light laugh, but one that still betrayed his exertion. "As are the other Knights of Rounds, Anya Alstreim and Gino Weinberg." Setting foot on the floor of the shaft, he stepped aside, waiting for Kallen and catching his breath. "But knowing Suzaku, the Lancelot will be here soon – which is why I've given the order for our forces to disperse as soon as the Knights of Rounds present themselves."

"Then how will we escape?" She looked down at him, over her shoulder, and then slid down the remaining length of the ladder, slowing her descent using the insoles of her boots and the palms of her gloved hands on the ladder's sides. As she reached the ground, another explosion caused her to lose her footing, Kallen stumbling back to press the line of her body to his within the cramped confines of the narrow shaft.

"Just leave that to me, Kallen," he remarked with a casual smile, his voice soft but certain in her ear. With his hands on her waist, he urged her through another small hatch which opened into an outer corridor, larger than the one before. They walked briskly now, not wanting to attract any more attention than necessary. Kallen thought that she recognized this area – these were the corridors leading to the docking and loading bays, where her Guren had been taken.

As if reading her mind, Lelouch spoke. "I'm sorry, Kallen, but we can't risk retrieving your Knightmare. If we tried to fight our way out, we'd have the Avalon to our backs and the Knights of Rounds cutting off our escape. Besides, we don't know the condition of the Guren's energy filler, or even if it's still operable. But we can't leave it in Britannian hands, either…." He trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

She understood. "You've made the preparations, then?" He nodded. Her teeth gritted, but she said nothing more. It pained her to lose the Knightmare Frame, but if losing it meant that they might destroy the Avalon, it was a sacrifice that she was willing to make.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Lelouch suddenly halted, casting out a hand to stop her in mid-stride. Blue eyes assessing the threat, Kallen counted eight soldiers fanned out, four on either side, their weapons drawn and leveled at them. She stayed her hand, quelling the instinct to reach for her own pistol. It was far too risky.

"Identify yourselves," one of the men in the middle of the group demanded cautiously, eyeing them both in turn. Lelouch casually removed his helmet, drawing all their eyes, and weapons, to him. She could tell by looking at their faces, the way their eyes focused, yet their features slackened, that he was using his power.

The order was curt. "Fall in behind us and escort us to the ground below." Lelouch took her hand and walked forward, the soldiers behind joining them in a formation of two abreast. It was eerie, to her, the way that their eyes shone with the power of his Geass – that sparkling hue of magenta around their irises. She looked up at him, at the same power, blazing in his left eye. He gave her a slight smile. "Everything is going according to plan," he murmured, leading the company of soldiers down a gangway to the surface of the Shinjuku Ghetto, where the ship had docked.

Looking up at the open sky, Kallen was grateful for the darkened visor of the helmet, shielding her eyes as they adjusted to the sudden, effusive light. Then she noticed something troubling – the explosions had stopped. "Zero," she voiced, with rising concern, as she gestured to the empty horizon.

"They've withdrawn already, hmm…?" His tone was considering, but not overly worried. As if in answer to his unvoiced question, Lancelot tore through the sky, flanked by Mordred and Tristan. They circled, then steadied, slightly north of the docked cruiser, hovering above as if surveying the retreating Knightmare Frames below. "It doesn't matter – we're almost out." Their escort, having completed the assigned task, moved back up the gangway to once again board the ship. He cast a hand about in front of him, indicating a number of dark gray transport vehicles spread out across the width of the main square.

"So many?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not for us," he chuckled as he withdrew a small transmitter from his breast pocket. Raising the device to his lips, he spoke a command. "Execute pattern epsilon." Immediately the vehicles sped away, their tires raising dusty grit in the otherwise still air. Kallen watched as the vans peeled off, one after another, each taking a different route amidst the side streets and alleyways of the ghetto. "Decoys," he said in answer to her questioning gaze, "and each driven by a 'willing' Britannian soldier." He pulled her into a side alley. "Despite the confusion, I'm expecting that most will be caught, traveling on the surface as they are, but at least a few will make it out. And as far as Schneizel will know, you and I will have made good our escape." He opened a small door, inviting her to enter with a flourish of his hand.

"And what about us?" she asked, stepping inside lightly. He closed the door behind them.

"We'll be traveling through the subway system safely underground, of course." He gestured toward a flight of stairs, sunken into the floor and disappearing from view as it descended into darkness. "This is one of the maintenance entrances leading to the tunnels. Our exit is below, and out. Come." He took her hand, his other retrieving and activating a small flashlight that he had doubtlessly left there before boarding the Avalon.

"You have a Knightmare down there?" She followed, finding cautious footing on the stairs as her eyes searched through the darkness that his light left untouched, Kallen constantly on guard for a waiting enemy.

"You'll see." By the tone of his voice, she thought that may have been smiling in the darkness. Kallen considered pressing him again, but before she could ask, a sudden jolt took her from her feet. Even underground, she could feel the impact of the explosion – the force of it reverberated down the length of the tunnel, causing dust to fall in unsettling streams from the ceiling, revealed only when the beam of the flashlight cut into them. A portent of grim foreboding, the tunnel walls shifted ominously as the shockwave passed.

She realized then that Lelouch was close by, kneeling over her, gripping her shoulder with one hand and holding the light with the other, thankfully directed away from her eyes. "Are you all right? Can you walk?" She nodded, and he pulled her to her feet.

"We should run," she said, her voice worried. "This tunnel won't hold for long." He nodded his agreement. This time, she startled him, as she without warning loped forward at a rapid pace, pulling him along, his flashlight illuminating the concrete path before them. As its beam wavered with each bouncing stride, she thought she could make out something in the distance, flickering a dim, red reflection.

Now nearer, Kallen gasped, recognizing the vehicle. It was the garishly decorated trailer that Zero had appropriated for the Black Knights as a mobile headquarters, in the early days of the resistance. She had thought it had long been destroyed, or abandoned, but here it was before her, just as she remembered.

"Get inside," he said, slapping a hand on a control console and opening a side door. "We're running out of time." Climbing up after her, he paused before entering, looking instead over his shoulder, listening to the deep rumble that echoed down from some distant part of the tunnel. It was beginning to collapse in on itself. "Let's go." The door slid shut behind him.

* * *

Lelouch cursed. He hadn't anticipated that the shockwave from the explosion which had crippled Schneizel's flag ship would do such extensive damage to the subway tunnels beneath – and not only those directly under the ship, but those near the outskirts of the ghetto, where the resonating vibrations had caused already weakened tunnels and passages to collapse. This was the third time he had had to turn the trailer around – a third route cut off by impassable debris that had not been there upon entering Shinjuku.

"So what are our options, Lelouch?" He glanced over at her, considering her question. She had taken off her helmet, and he noticed now that her face was smudged with dirt, from when she had fallen.

"Hmm. The trailer isn't as noticeable as a Knightmare Frame," he began, leaning back and powering down the engine, "but it still leaves a heat signature that may be followed. We've been driving for nearly two hours now, and I'm sorry to say that we're not that much closer to finding a way out." He took off his own helmet, running a gloved hand through his dark hair. "We could abandon the trailer and move up to the surface – according to the map, there's a service exit a few kilometers back the way we came – but even if we surfaced, there's no way of knowing what kind of Britannian presence may be waiting, especially after the explosion.

"If we were to surface and stay hidden, there still isn't much we could do. Down here, communications are essentially cut off, and up there, the enemy will be tracking any unfamiliar signal source - they'd expect us to be calling for help. Assuming they didn't find us using the signal, we can't exactly have the Black Knights come to back us up, not with the Knights of Rounds still in the area, and you without your Guren." He rested his hand lightly on the top of hers – a gesture of comfort, and one that she welcomed. "Lakshata is working on the Guren Mk. III, if that's any consolation. You won't be without your Knightmare for long."

Her brow furrowed, blue eyes considering as they looked at him. "So our best strategy is to just stay here, underground, and wait for the soldiers to pass before slipping out?" He nodded.

"That way, there isn't a chance of the enemy tracking our signal – they're expecting us to have fled on the surface, but if they detect an underground energy source constantly on the move, then it would most likely arouse their suspicions. Our Knightmare Frames moving into this area would do the same – after all, Schneizel is of the belief that we have already escaped." He tugged at the collar of his uniform. It was getting too warm. "If we wait here for a few days, the regular army will fall back to the Avalon, giving us the chance to make it through on the surface, even using this trailer. We have plenty of supplies, more than enough to last, and weapons, too." He reached over, tugging the material of her soldier's uniform. "And a few changes of spare clothing." With the back of his gloved hand, he wiped the sweat from his brow, succeeding only in making a brown streak across his own forehead. He glanced at the dirty gloves in distaste, and began to peel them off. "You should shower and get dressed," he said casually after removing the first, "It may be a while before we can get moving again."

"All right. I'm going, then." She stood, turning, and smoothly ducked out of the trailer's cockpit. He sighed, somewhat regretfully. He appreciated her presence.

"Don't be too long," he called out behind her, "I need to take one too." He heard her reply in assent. Hunching forward, Lelouch rubbed his temples with his fingers, now free of the gloves. Being cut off from his escape had been an unfortunate and unpredicted event, and his future plans had to be adjusted to accommodate the delay that this problem presented.

There was the Chinese Federation, of course – with the Eunuch Generals now dead, would the rebellion he had worked to incite within the cities of the Federation now accept the leadership of Empress Tianzi, acting in conjunction with Li Xingke, and ultimately, under the direction of Zero himself? He thought he had the man convinced at least, after having staged the Empress' rather timely rescue, and further, by not interfering with his engagement to Tianzi. Li Xingke would be a valuable ally – he had proven his skill once before, in capturing Kallen. He ground his teeth at that.

Then there was the problem of Ashford Academy, what with Anya and Gino now students there, along with Suzaku. Three enemies that, if eliminated, would make his plans go all the more smoothly. But that wasn't the way of the Japanese, or his way, despite all of Diethard's urgings. He wondered why they had been placed there, as honorary members of the school, and of the Student Council. It hadn't been Villetta's idea, he knew – she would have informed him of that. As of now, though, they were just a nuisance – two more sets of eyes waiting for him to falter in the life of posturing that he upheld with Rolo.

And finally, Shirley. She had been acting strangely around him, during his time at the Academy, before he had left to set in motion his plan to rescue Kallen. He needed to find out what was going on with her. Rolo had mentioned something about it – that Sayoko, posing as his double, hadn't been acting like his usual self. Using her as a double was a risk, but one that he had to take in order to maintain the veil of normality. He would debrief Sayoko thoroughly when he returned, and handle Shirley as need be.

Lelouch sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. There were too many things that needed to be done, and he was in no place to deal with them. With a resigned shake of his head, he pushed himself to his feet. He had to bend low to exit the cockpit, its small stairway leading into the lounge that made up the bulk of the trailer. In the back was a short corridor connecting to the storage area, and next to that, the spiral stairs to the second floor – the bedroom, and what had been his makeshift office. He heard the running water from above reduce to a slow trickle. She would be out soon, and he wanted a shower – wanted to get out of the sticky, sweat-damped soldier's uniform. Sauntering to the stairs, Lelouch mounted the short flight of steps and knocked twice on the closed door at their top. "Are you dressed?"

Instead of replying, she opened the door a crack, then let it swing open fully. Her dark red hair, looking even darker with the damp from the shower, just brushed the top of her collarbone. She wore nothing but a yellow towel, wrapped snugly around her body. "Not yet, but you should go in now, while the water's still hot." He nodded, averting his eyes, and stepped inside, moving past her. He could feel her warmth, radiating off of her body, even through the towel, and smell the clean scent of her skin and hair. He was glad that she couldn't see his face – that she couldn't see the red that suffused his cheeks.

As if just now remembering his purpose, Lelouch shifted his gaze to the two neatly folded stacks of clothing on the desk at one side of the room – his clothes, and hers, along with another fresh towel. He strode to the desk purposefully, if a bit unsteadily, and she followed behind him. Not looking back at her, he handed her the folded stack of clothes, which she accepted with a small thank you. "Would you mind?" he asked quietly, not turning to look back at her. She gave a soft laugh, but he could hear her footfalls on the carpeted floor signaling her retreat to the side of the bed. Lelouch sighed at the loss of the warmth that fled as soon as she moved away.

He shrugged off the feeling as he shed his clothing – starting with the boots, then the vest and shirt, and finally the pants. The towel he wrapped loosely about his waist. "I won't be long," he murmured quietly, looking at her over his shoulder. She averted her eyes, giving a small nod, her cheeks tinged in crimson, the bundle of clothes clutched in front of her towel-clad chest.

Lelouch stepped inside the cramped shower stall, grateful for the frosted glass that hid him from the outside room. Stripping off his towel, he opened the stall just enough to pull the towel through the bar that hung on the other side of the door. Naked now, he let the water flow, allowing it to cascade as radiant waves of heat through his hair and across his shoulders, streaming in rivulets down the length of his body. Kallen had been as good as her word – the hot water was wonderful, working to knead the tensions and worries of his plans gone awry as he stood beneath the steady stream, forearms pressing the sides of the triangular stall, his head bowed forward. He relished the feeling a moment longer before lathering a washcloth with soap and beginning to scrub away the sweat and dirt from their escape.

* * *

He had just finished rinsing the sudsy soap from his body when he felt the shower door open, betrayed by the sudden influx of colder air. Lelouch froze, his body tense, and that caution stayed with him even when he felt Kallen's arms circle around his chest, holding him tightly. She wore no towel, now; he could feel the tantalizing warmth of her body, pressed against the back of his – from the firmness of her stomach and the front of her thighs, to the yielding softness of her breasts, and the heat of her breathing, coming in quick gasps, as she nuzzled her cheek into the back of his neck.

Slowing lifting his hand, Lelouch turned off the water, reducing its flow to a slow trickle from the showerhead above. There was little sound now, save for the patter of water droplets and the sharp, tight gasps of her breathing, close to his ear. "Kallen," he said softly, breaking the wordless silence between them. She squeezed him tighter, as if imploring him to remain silent. He complied.

After a few long moments, she finally spoke. "Thank you, Lelouch," she said with a breathy voice, "for coming for me." And as suddenly as it had come, the embrace ended, Kallen releasing her hold on him and backing demurely away. His mind still clouded with the memory of her closeness, Lelouch didn't register the door opening for a second time as she slowly stepped out. But before he realized what he was doing, his hand closed firmly around her wrist, stopping her just outside the stall. He stood within the threshold of the door, one wet foot on the lush carpet of the bedroom and the other on the slick tile of the bathroom.

"I promised, didn't I?" His voice was certain, yet gentle. He could hear her breathing quicken, feel her pulse racing beneath his fingers at her wrist. "You're too valuable a piece to lose, Q1." It surprised him when she tore her hand away, breaking his grip. He stared at her back, watching from behind as she crossed her arms in front of her. Bare as she was, it was something of an effort to keep his gaze from roaming.

"Is that all I am to you, Zero?" Kallen turned her head, ever so slightly, and he thought he saw a tear welling up in the corner of her eye. "Just another piece on a chessboard?" In answer, he took his towel and wrapped it around her shoulders. Her fingers clutched the towel tighter around herself, and embarrassed, she lowered her gaze to the floor. Lelouch let his hands rest on her shoulders.

"You are important to the both of us, Kallen," he said, squeezing her shoulders lightly, "to Zero, and to me." He backed away, bending down to retrieve the damp towel that she had dropped upon entering the shower with him. "But if you're asking me to love you, I can't." Lelouch began to dry himself off, trying as best he could to ignore the scent of her on the towel. He still watched her, out of the corner of his eye.

When she ended the silence at last, Lelouch gave a start. "C.C.," she muttered, her voice carrying a poorly hidden twinge of anger, "it's because of her, isn't it?" Kallen turned to look into his eyes. "You love her." There was a gleam over her deep blue irises – the sheen of tears, barely held in restraint.

Lelouch considered her for a long moment, remaining silent for the time. He let the towel hang from around his neck, its tails dangling down the front of his chest. If he said yes, he knew, it would prevent things from becoming far more complicated than necessary. He had no doubt that, as Zero, Kallen would follow him loyally either way – serving his ends in the cause to bring about the downfall of Britannia.

But if he said yes, then as Lelouch, their friendship might very well be over. She was one of the few people that knew his true identity, though perhaps not the extent of his reasons behind donning the mask. He realized now that her friendship was something that he did not want to lose. It should have been "yes", but he heard himself saying, "No."

Watching her as she took a cautious step toward him, Lelouch waited for the impending question. "Then why…?" she asked, her voice frail, as if afraid to hope. He shook his head, stopping her where she stood.

"She and I have a contract," he answered, smoothly withdrawing the contact lens from his eye and letting her see the glow of the power held within it. It didn't faze her, and he replaced it. "But I don't love her. I can't let myself love anyone, Kallen – especially you." She took another step forward, closing the distance between them, her blue eyes intent on his. He tensed again, not sure whether he should back away or remain still. In the end, her warmth held him in place, broaching the small space between his body and hers.

"You've slept with her, haven't you?" The frank question made him avert his eyes, but the heat rising in his face betrayed the answer. Though it hadn't been an explicit part of their contract, C.C. was in no way reluctant in making him know that she was available in that manner - tempting him, in fact, seemed a wonderful amusement to her. A few times, he had succumbed to that pleasure – indulged in the sweet intimacy of being with a woman. The memory of those experiences caused him to redden further. "Then please, Lelouch," she begged, her voice weak, "will you be with me tonight?" Her hands let the towel around her shoulders fall to the floor, moving to clutch the tails of that still wrapped around his neck. Before she could pull him closer to herself, though, his hands stopped her, staying her firmly at the waist.

"You don't owe me anything, Kallen." Her eyes, like twin pools of crystal blue, glistened as the caught the light from overhead.

"I know – but I want this." She looked down, staring at his chest, before saying in little more than a whisper, "I love you, Lelouch." When her face tilted back to look at him, the cast in her features was pleading. "Please, even if you don't feel the same way, will you…?"

He answered by taking her into his arms, realizing then that a part of him did want this - had wanted it ever since that fateful day at the construction site here in Shinjuku. One hand held her close at the small of her back, while the other glided upward across the smooth curve of her spine and up, working its fingers into her dark red hair. Lelouch cradled her head to the side of his neck and felt warm tears moistening his skin as she returned the embrace, her arms wrapping tightly around his chest. "Thank you," she said in a muffled voice, quieting to nuzzle her lips against the hollow of his collarbone.

Kallen broke the sweet embrace only enough to kiss him, first gently and lingeringly, almost tentatively, and then more insistently, her lips parting to allow her tongue to coax his to meet it. Complying, he deepened the kiss, the hand in her hair holding her tightly to him as he stole the breath from her lungs. She gasped for air, pushing him away briefly to pull the offending towel from off around his neck, letting it join its companion on the floor, so that nothing remained between her skin and his. Her hands explored the contours of his front, fingers splayed wide as they moved slowly down, from his collarbone, to mid-chest, and then to the slim muscles of his torso, as if wanting to commit to memory each ridge and line of him. Looking intently into his violet eyes, her own a hot and sultry blue, Kallen let her hands wander lower, gently stroking the hardening length of his shaft. He moaned, and she hungrily kissed his opened mouth.

Lelouch pulled her closer with the hand at the small of her back while his right knee parted her legs, causing the hot wetness of her sex to press against the top of his thigh. Moaning into his mouth at the feeling, Kallen slowly began to grind her hips on his leg, leaving her arousal wet on his skin. Lelouch let his right hand drop from the nape of her neck, caressing the line of her back, to her flank, then upward to fondle her breast, his finger and thumb kneading an already hard, pink nipple.

"Lelouch," she said insistently, breaking off the passionate kiss to stare into his dark amethyst eyes. He could hear the desire in her voice – see the wanton lust in her gaze – as she pressed against him, her hips never ceasing that slow gyration. He understood, and it was a struggle to walk with her to the bed, neither he nor she wanting to end the erotic crush of his body to hers.

When his shin hit the edge of the bed, Lelouch let his hands slip to her hips, pushing her slightly away. "Lie down." She complied, if slowly, her head resting against the lush pillows near the headboard and her legs drawing up, turned shyly to one side. He didn't follow her immediately, instead waiting a moment to take in the sight of her – her pale skin, flushed with a tinge of red at the cheeks and upper chest, the curves of her breasts, rising and falling with each quick breath, and the lines of her legs as she shifted them nervously, her toes curving downward.

"Don't look at me like that," she said in a tone of abashed consternation, her eyes breaking off from his, cheeks reddening further. Lelouch let out a soft laugh, moving now to join her on the bed. Once he had settled down, he propped up his head with one elbow, those dark violet eyes regarding her as he lay on his side. She still hadn't turned back to look at him.

"I can't help but stare," he confessed with a soft murmur. "You're beautiful, Kallen." His words only seemed to unsettle her further, and she crossed her arms, covering her breasts. Gently, he took hold of her wrist, bringing the palm of her hand to rest against his chest, letting her feel the quick, rhythmic beating of his heart. "I'm nervous, too." That admission prompted her at last turn back to him, her blue eyes flickering with slight uncertainty. Lelouch let go of her hand, but she held it still at his chest. His own reached slowly toward her cheek, tucking back a loose lock of red hair that had fallen across her face.

Moving from his chest, Kallen's fingers glided upward, slipping behind his neck to run through his thick, dark hair. She let her body relax, her shoulders now lying even with the top of the bed. Lelouch took her invitation, shifting himself to hover over her, his body propped up with one elbow to her right, and a knee between the two of hers. Tilting up her chin with his free hand, he bestowed a gentle kiss on her lips, reveling in their soft, liquid warmth. Though she trembled, slowly, that hesitance faded, the hand in his hair pulling him harder to her opened mouth. He cupped her breast, the flesh at the same time firm, yet yielding, and she gasped when his fingers found her nipple.

Lelouch ended the kiss, the cast of his gaze hungry. Relishing the taste of her, he moved downward, to her neck and collarbone, his lips and tongue hot and wet, teeth nipping playfully at her skin. The crimson flush of her body seemed to deepen as he traveled lower, his tongue now licking the valley between her breasts. What his lips and teeth did to one nipple, his fingers did to the other, twisting and tweaking, Kallen responding with hot, breathy moans. Judging by her sharp gasps, she especially seemed to like it when he took the hard nipple between his upper teeth and tongue, tugging and sucking wetly.

Lingering to tease the skin of her stomach, by her navel, Lelouch's dark eyes studied her reactions, his ears listening intently to the sounds of her arousal. It was something he had learned in his lovemaking with C.C., this attention to one's partner – to the quickness of her breathing, to the blush of her skin, to the sensitivity of her body as he touched her. He could tell that she was nearly ready to accept him, but there was no need to rush. He wanted her to enjoy it, fully. He trailed kisses downward. "Kallen," he murmured, looking up the contours of her to meet her eyes, "spread your legs."

Slowly she complied, blushing hotly and looking away. He shifted a bit, resting now on both elbows, one arm cradling her upper leg while the hand of the other stroked her inner thighs. Her sex was swollen red with arousal, already glistening, and she gasped when he slid a finger along its outer lips. She was very, very sensitive. Lelouch stretched his neck forward, letting his nose nuzzle the soft red curls of neatly trimmed hair that accentuated her womanhood, while his breath fell hot and steady along her skin.

The sharp, indrawn breath she gave as he spread her outer lips was replaced with a long shudder of pleasure when he began to lick her soft, pink insides, feeling like hot, wet velvet against his tongue. He relished the taste of her – clean and subtle, slightly sour with just a hint of salt. Her entire body tightened when he took her clit into his mouth, her hand fixing almost painfully in his hair, remaining there for the duration of her climax. It surprised him – he had barely touched her, and she had already had her first release. Her grip in his hair loosened as she began to breathe again, and Lelouch continued to lick and suck and nibble, her hips trembling with every movement of his tongue and teeth.

He was again surprised when he slid a finger inside her, gently at first. Lelouch had thought she would be a virgin. He asked her as much, trying to keep the thread of jealousy out of his voice. "I am, but it... well... broke," she mumbled, biting her lower lip and blushing hotly, "...while on a mission for the Resistance. Before I met you." He nodded, the jealousy cooling a bit, as he returned to his work, moving the finger slowly inside her. Kallen tried to bite back her moans, but her hips betrayed her rising desire, rocking to meet his hand with every in stroke.

Unable to wait any longer, her hands cupped the sides of his face, tilting his head up to look at her. "Lelouch," she begged, the hot need clear in her voice and in her eyes, her lower lip trembling. He gave her one last, long kiss, his tongue invading the depths where his finger had been, causing her to shudder once more. Then he moved up the bed, sliding along her body, until his eyes looked down into hers. "I want you..." she said breathily, her unseen hand stroking the length of his throbbing erection. "Please…." The hand positioned the tip of him at her entrance, coating it with the oils of her arousal.

He kissed her when he entered her, drawing her gasp of breath into his own lungs. She felt exquisite, warm and wet, like a hot satin glove that pulsed rhythmically around him, coaxing him deeper inside her. Her legs wrapped about him, ankles locking, burying the length of him within her. Kallen's blue eyes were wide as they stared upward into violet. He toyed with her lower lip, tugging it between his teeth. "Are you ready…?" he asked, kissing the corner of her mouth. She didn't reply in words, preferring instead to moan again as she ground her hips, as though trying to have him deeper inside her.

Slowly, he began to move, his hips backing out until only the tip of him remained in her, then sinking forward again, eliciting a sultry moan with each movement. As sensitive as she was, it wasn't long before she reached her climax, Kallen not quite managing to stifle a sharp scream of pleasure. He gave her only a few moments to recover before beginning again, his member slicked with her juices, her hips now actively meeting his with each thrust.

Leaning down, Lelouch kissed her neck, his movements falling into a quick, steady rhythm, one that pushed her over the edge time and time again. He gave her no respite, now, and nor did she seem to need it, as excited as she was. Her hands moved across his back, fingernails digging in sharply, dragging down in red streaks. "Lelouch," she said in a hot murmur into his ear, "you can be… rougher… with me, if you want… I won't break..." she let her voice trail off. He bit her neck, causing her to breathe sharply, then licked the welt.

"All right," he replied, lifting his head up to look into her eyes. They were hot with lust, and Lelouch watched intently as her tongue slipped out to moisten her lips. He sat up to kneel, his arms hooking her legs behind the knee, lifting her so that her buttocks were now off of the bed. And then he thrust with his hips and thighs, carrying enough momentum such that each time he invaded her again, her womanhood rammed hard against his, in a pendulous connection. Her screams of pleasure were loud and piercing, almost bestial.

To Kallen, it was rapture. The waves of feeling seemed never ending, radiating throughout the entirety of her body whenever she climaxed, pulsing from her sex, down her legs, to her curled toes, then up again, gaining strength as they resonated within her. Drawn breaths came ragged and erratic, as if she had to struggle to breathe, so overwhelming were the sensations coursing through her. She had lost all track of time – it could have been minutes, or hours; there was just no way for her to tell.

Vaguely she realized that Lelouch was shifting positions, laying her down on her side, now, and forcing her to draw up one leg. His forearm pressed up against the back of her lower thigh, just behind her knee, making sure that she couldn't straighten it. She did forget to breathe when he pushed the length of him inside her – she was thoroughly convinced now that he would split her open. The thought only made her climax that much harder. It was useless, now, to try to contain her screams – they tore through the air, unabashed in the raw, erotic pleasure that he gave her, his manhood strong and unyielding. Her hand squeezed his forearm, anchoring her to this world as the sensations threatened to drive her mad with bliss.

Lelouch struggled to keep control as she jerked beneath him, shuddering, her fingers tight around his arm. He knew he couldn't last much longer. He withdrew, Kallen letting slip a soft cry of disappointment, but soon he had her how he wanted her, laying down on her stomach, her legs together between his. Sitting back on her upper thighs, he let the slick shaft of his manhood move in the crevice of her buttocks as his hands kneaded the firm flesh. She had a very nice behind. Looking at him over her shoulder, she moaned, eyes glazed in ecstasy. "Please…." He complied, angling the tip downward and parting her silken folds once more. Gripping her cheeks tightly, he thrust, hard, the angle of this position drawing muffled screams from Kallen as she buried her head in the pillows. Her legs kicked and jerked, her heels hitting his back as he pumped ruthlessly in and out of her, loving the feel of her firm buttocks against the front of his hips.

He was close, he knew. Pausing while still buried inside her, Lelouch lowered his body down to rest on top of the back of hers. Kallen turned her head, trying to look back at him, but he licked her earlobe, whispering softly. "Are you ready...?" She bit her lip, nodding.

Kallen had never known that something could feel so good. When he had begun to move again, his chest flat atop her back, she had felt his hand slip beneath her, to her belly, then lower, his fingers seeking the hardened nub of her clit. He rubbed it mercilessly as he pounded her from behind, and to her, it felt like one continuous stream of climaxes, each orgasm stronger than the one that preceded it, until he finally let out a long moan, thrusting hard and deep inside her, staying lodged there as his essence erupted inside her belly. Feeling his satisfaction finally mixing with hers, she was pushed off of the edge of summit to which all her pleasure had been mounting, driving her mad with the enormity of that ecstasy. The scream was long and desperate, the release urgent and undeniable. Long after it had subsided, she still could not catch her breath, each gasp jarred by waves of pulsing, lingering pleasure.

When she had finally regained her senses, Kallen realized that she lay on her side, Lelouch close behind, she nestled into the curve of his body. She squeezed his arms, wrapped tight around her, and he nuzzled her hair in response. Taking a few deep breaths, Kallen tried to steady her voice before working up the nerve to speak. "Lelouch," she said hesitantly, still not turning to glance at him, "can I ask you something selfish?" He murmured a wordless assent, his lips lightly kissing the top of her shoulder.

Kallen turned in his embrace, her face close to his. She looked into violet eyes, losing herself in his gaze. The words were soft, and shy, but she managed not to look away. "…Will you tell me that you love me?" She bit her lip. "Even if it's not true…" she trailed off, looking down for a time before meeting his eyes once more, "…a girl likes to hear it."

Lelouch stared at her for a moment, seeing the fragility in those eyes of so striking a blue. "I love you, Kallen," he murmured at last, and she smiled, moving forward to kiss him. He met her halfway in that kiss, and in that instant, he knew that it had not been a lie.

"Thank you," she whispered contentedly, snuggling closer against him. He embraced her tighter, tucking her head into the curve of his throat, under his chin. Listening to her breathing become slow and even, he knew that she had succumbed to satisfied exhaustion. Closing his eyes, he tried to do the same, and soon enough, sleep had taken him.

End Chapter 1

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	2. Witch

Standard Disclaimer: Code Geass and its characters are not my property, etc. If you're offended by explicit, mature themes, then read on and let me try to change your mind. 18+ please.

Timeline Note: This chapter takes place concurrently with the events of R2, Episode 13.

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**The Castaway Prince - A Code Geass Lemon Fanfiction by ClockMaker411**

Chapter 2 - Witch

Lelouch came slowly awake when he felt something soft and warm sidle in closer to him, adjusting to nestle in the angle made by the side of his chest and the crook of his arm. Light fingertips began to trail up and down the center of his sternum, and he realized who it must be, calling her name in a sleepy murmur, his arm sliding around to hold her naked body against his. "Kallen…"

His eyes snapped open in pain as the hand at his chest abruptly became a claw, its fingers driving their nails deep into his skin. The eyes that met his upon glancing down at the woman beside him were not the expected dark blue, but rather, a burnished gold. At that moment, C.C.'s gaze resembled nothing so much as that of a female wolf, responding in violence to some encroachment upon her territory. The nails making five red welts down the middle of his chest complemented the thought rather appropriately. "Was it a pleasant dream?" It was a wonder to him how she could make her voice sound so flat, yet at the same time, so full of ire.

Lelouch didn't answer, but shifted to sit up in his bed, the white sheets pooling around his torso. C.C. withdrew her hand. He was bare-chested, as was she, he discovered, with a glance to her at his left. She did nothing to hide the curves of her upper body, creating an appealing line of cleavage as she lay on her side. The angry red scar, the vertical line winged with twin fronds, marked her prominently below her left breast. She raised an eyebrow, noticing him looking at her. Lelouch slid his eyes away.

Slowly did he recollect the events of the past few days, the hazy fog of sleep now lifting. It had been only yesterday morning that he had resurfaced in the Shinjuku Ghetto with Kallen, having spent just two nights below ground, waiting for the commotion above to pass. The ascent had been sooner than he had originally planned, but recent frustration had forced his hand prematurely, Lelouch unable to stand her presence any longer.

No, that wasn't quite true. It was the abrupt lack of her presence that he couldn't stand. After he had awoken from the restful sleep following their love-making, Lelouch had found the bed empty beside him, her clothes gone. His had been neatly folded near the foot of the bed. He had donned them, leaving in search for her, only to find her cooped up in the cockpit of the mobile headquarters. She left wordlessly though, once he had entered, retreating to the lounge, then to the bedroom, if he persisted in chasing her. During meals, when they were forced to occupy the same room, she said little, eating less and not meeting his eyes.

Her cold and distant demeanor galled him, fueling his own frustration and anger – at both her and himself, for being trapped in a situation where he could do so little. Moreover, he felt betrayed. On that night, he had shared his heart with her, and the morning after, she had plunged an icy dagger into it, the blade wrought of dispassionate indifference. The wound had made a bitter void inside him.

Despite the anger, the hurt, the feeling of betrayal, Lelouch had not pressed her. He knew all too well that provoking the enemy's queen too early might lead to a vicious retaliation that could, at the very least, disrupt one's plans – or, at the very worst, result in the provocateur's downfall. Once they had surfaced, in the early morning of the third day, he had treated her with the same dispassion – he acted as Zero, as a commander ordering a subordinate. They had been able to commandeer a scouting vehicle as a result of the outer patrol lines being spread too thin, what with the bulk of Britannian forces concentrating around the fallen Avalon.

Kallen hadn't looked back when she had left Area 11 for the Chinese Federation. Lelouch rationalized that sending her away wasn't because of his growing irritation with her, but because it was there, in the Chinese Federation, that she could be put to the most use. Rakshata, he knew, was already nearing completion of the Guren Mk. III. Perhaps that would lift her spirits. And besides, it was too dangerous for her in the Tokyo Concession, especially being around him. Gino Weinberg and Anya Alstreim, two of the Knights of Rounds, both recognized her – as did Suzaku. Although as far as he knew, Suzaku's duties to the governor, to Nunnally, meant that he was absent from the Academy far more often than Gino and Anya. However, with the two other Knights of Rounds now being admitted to the Student Council, the danger was no less significant.

The touch of a hand against his chest brought him out of his reverie. "Lelouch…." Her low murmur was laced with genuine concern. Lelouch realized then that she had been repeating his name for some time, her words unheard, occupied as he was with his own thoughts. C.C. was sitting up now, next to him. Her eyes looked up into his, those amber irises reflecting her worry, as her fingertips tenderly caressed the raised red streaks on his chest. "I wasn't trying to hurt you," she said in a half-apology, something of a sheepish smile crossing her lips.

"Why are you here, C.C.?" The cold demeanor with which he spoke came as something of a surprise. Dwelling on the subject of Kallen seemed to darken his mood, of late. She drew back her hand, as if stung, and clutched it to her chest; for that moment, the look that flickered across her face made it seem as if he had slapped her. But as soon as it had come, the look was gone, C.C. schooling her features into a mask of cool indifference. The edge returned to her voice.

"I thought you could use the company, now that Kallen is gone." That puzzled him – not her answer, but the observation that most of the anger in her words seemed directed towards him, not Kallen. She spoke Kallen's name with a thread of vague amusement – a trifling matter, one beneath her notice.

Lelouch turned, letting his legs slide off the side of the bed, and stood. Thankfully he found that he wasn't entirely naked – just bare-chested. By the way the thin sheets hugged the shape of her legs, he knew that the same couldn't be said of C.C. "You misunderstand me," he called lightly over his shoulder as he walked to an ornately carved wardrobe of dark rosewood, "why are you still in Area 11? I have no need of you here." He pulled out a light gray coat, offset with dark gray at the shoulders, and trimmed with black. The matching dark gray slacks followed, along with a long-sleeved green shirt with a high, banded collar, completing the outfit. "You could be recognized." With Villetta and Rolo under his thumb, there was little threat from the Secret Intelligence Agency, tasked with monitoring his movements. Suzaku, however, knew her, as did possible others – they might identify her as the green-haired woman always at Zero's side. "And besides, you were supposed to be looking for the location of the Order, in the Chinese Federation."

She answered his question with one of her own. "What happened between you and Kallen?" Though he wasn't facing her, Lelouch could feel the amber augurs of her eyes boring into the back of his skull. "I've never seen her that angry at you." When he didn't turn around, she asked again, "What did you do, Lelouch? Force yourself on her?" Her tone was light and lilting, amused.

He had heard enough. Lelouch whipped around, his violet eyes blazing with rage, reflected in both the flaring Geass that shone brilliantly in his left eye and in the hands making tight fists at his sides, wrinkling the clothes he yet held. "Out," he growled, voice low and menacing, "Get out!" Jaw clenched, the usually gentle features of his face were now contorted into a mask of fury.

C.C. dismissed the wrath of his anger with a smooth roll of her shoulders. "I've told you before, _boy_," she said, her tone condescendingly indulgent, "your Geass has no effect on me." Despite her words, she slid off the bed, her movements smooth and rather feline. Lelouch could see that his conjecture as to her nakedness had been correct. She made no show of hurry as she casually scooped up one of his discarded shirts, slipping her arms into the sleeves and wrapping the loose white garment around her. A fluid flick of her hands behind her neck brought the light green shimmer of her hair to fall in a gentle cascade down the length of her back, freed now from the confines of the shirt. The carriage of her body suggested that she was leaving not because he had demanded it, but out of her own accord. Lelouch seethed.

Her golden eyes settled on his, the expression on her features unreadable. "I stay, Lelouch," she said in answer to his earlier question, "because you need me, whether you realize it or not." The statement hung in the air, resonating, spoken in that flat, cool inflection – the one that masked her roiling anger underneath. Lelouch recalled all the times that she had come to his rescue, since the very beginning – she had granted him his power, his Geass, to save his own life. His anger ebbed somewhat as a thread of shame weakened its resolve.

Lelouch remained silent, his violet eyes cooling a bit as he watched her saunter to the doorway. His shirt, long on her, licked the back of her upper thighs as she walked, just barely managing to cover the lower curve of her buttocks. C.C. paused at the doorway, her head turning just the slightest fraction, so that he could see the side of her face, but not her eyes. The tenderness in her voice surprised him. "Forget about her, Lelouch," she said in a soft murmur. "You and I have a pact." Her arms crossed in front of her, lifting the hem of the shirt as the material tightened around her figure. The observation was not lost on him. "In the end," she continued, still gentle and soft-spoken, "it can be only you and I. It will be easier for you once you realize that." And with that, she was gone, the door closing quietly in her wake.

Staring after her for a time, Lelouch let his grip relax on the coat and shirt that he held in his hands. He looked down, seeing tight wrinkles in the deep gray of the first and the thin green of the second. His lips pursed. Perhaps he could have Sayoko iron the garments before he left for the library. With a sigh, he spread the shirt and coat over the surface of the bed, trying his best to smooth them out with his hands – it did little. Giving up for now, Lelouch slung a crimson red bathrobe about his shoulders. It was just nearing dawn, and he looked forward to a long, relaxing shower, to help clear his thoughts. He padded out into the hall on slippered feet, heading toward the bathroom.

* * *

Lelouch watched silently as Rolo reached up, selecting a thickly bound book from a shelf in the back of the dimly lit library. Instead of withdrawing it entirely, he tilted it so that it rested horizontally, on its spine, then pushed it inwards; of their own accord, two bookshelves slowly began to separate, revealing the secret elevator behind.

"So what are you going to do about them, Nii-san?" Lelouch considered the question thoughtfully, stepping inside the elevator behind Rolo. The brown-haired boy pressed his fingertips upon a touchpad that served as the elevator's control panel, and smoothly they began their descent.

"I don't know yet." Lelouch pursed his lips. "Maybe the reason why they're here is just to see what commoners' lives are like, as they say." He knew that was unlikely, though; doubtless they had been placed here as extra pairs of eyes to watch him, should his behavior change due to Kallen's capture. But it had been more than three days since she had escaped, and they were still here. That puzzled him. "Have you talked to either of them?"

"Gino says a lot," he replied, pursing his lips, "but none of it is really helpful. Anya keeps to herself – kind of like me, I guess." He gave Lelouch an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Nii-san." His eyes flashed for a moment, suddenly dangerous. "If you want me to kill them, I –"

Lelouch cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. "I told you to stop thinking like that, Rolo." He gave the younger boy a disarming smile. "We'll figure something out." After a moment, Rolo nodded, his eyes shifting downward in wordless thought.

Lelouch considered him with a side-long glance. In the chess set of people that he used, Rolo was a rook; he always sought the straightest line of attack to dispatch his enemy. His Geass, the ability to stop the perception of time in others, only added to the effectiveness of that attack. And like the rook, Rolo had only two axes of movement – to follow Zero's, Lelouch's aims, or to turn on him, to carry out his original mission of capturing C.C. and killing his older brother. Lelouch dared not trust him fully – not until he made Rolo know that there could be no possible future in moving against him. Yet here, in Ashford Academy, Lelouch was castled with Rolo – if Rolo did in fact betray him, he would have the clearest and shortest path to eliminate him. It was something that he had to risk, and Lelouch did not want to consider the possibility that his gamble might end up a mistake.

The elevator came to a gliding stop at the bottom of the shaft, its doors sliding open with a quiet, pneumatic hiss, and they walked through a dark corridor toward the underground observation room. It was somewhat small, its main space dominated by a large conference table flanked with swiveling chairs, while its walls were made up of a number of monitoring screens, lined with an array of control panels beneath them. Villetta and Sayoko were already inside.

The tall, dark-skinned Britannian woman regarded him uneasily, unconsciously fidgeting with the clipboard she held against her chest, tucked beneath folded arms. Villetta wore her usual gym teacher's outfit – a short-skirted, one-piece sleeveless dress accented with a gold line running down one side. The dress clung tight about her curves – she was quite popular with the boys of the school. The other part of her attire, a white half-jacket, rested on the back of a chair at the head of the table. Lelouch knew that she was clearly uncomfortable in their relationship as confederates; after all, he had to blackmail her to enlist her aid. Briefly he wondered whether or not her decision to submit to his will had been influenced more by the risk of losing her title, or because of her past relationship with Ougi Kaname.

Sayoko, thankfully, was dressed in her maid uniform – a white apron worn over a dark gray dress, with a black scarf at the neck. A small white hat completed the look. Though Lelouch tried not to show it, it was slightly unsettling to be confronted by one's perfect double. He noted that there was a pink PDA on the table before her, but dismissed the idle thought from his mind.

Lelouch pulled out the nearest chair and took a seat, motioning for the others to do the same. He leaned forward in the chair, propping his elbows up on the table and looking across at Villetta over interlaced fingers. "Have you found out anything more about Gino Weinberg or Anya Alstreim?" He went straight to the point, not wanting to dance around the troubling subject.

Villetta sighed, taking a careful seat on the edge of the chair. "As I told you, Lelouch," she began, "I know as little as you do about their reasons for being here." She leaned forward, placing the clipboard on the table and sliding it over to him. It was Gino and Anya's biographical information – mainly useless, as most of the details on their profiles had been censored out. "Although both the Knights of Rounds and the Secret Intelligence Agency are under direct command of the Emperor himself, the Knights, except for Suzaku, are unaware of our operation here." Her voice was slightly apologetic. "Likewise, the Secret Intelligence Agency is not informed of the Knights' affairs." The frown that came to her lips also creased her brow. Evidently the Knights' presence in the Academy was something that she hadn't predicted.

Raising an eyebrow, Lelouch gestured with a flick of his hand toward the screens lining the walls of the room. "Use the surveillance equipment to monitor their movements. Record their conversations – everything they say, especially among themselves. It might reveal something about their intentions." He pushed back from the table, as if to leave.

"Wait, Lelouch," Villetta said suddenly, prompting him to settle back down again in his seat, "it's not that simple. All of the data collected here is archived then analyzed by agents in Britannia. It's difficult enough hiding the fact that we are on your side, now – if we shift our resources to keep tabs on the Knights of Rounds…."

Lelouch finished the thought for her. "Then it would raise suspicions." She nodded, and he clicked his tongue, considering. "I'll trust your judgment," he said at last, rising from his seat, "but do what you can to monitor them without being found out."

Before he could go, Sayoko spoke, having remained silent up until now. "Lelouch-sama," she addressed him, standing as well, "you have read my report?" Her hands took up the small PDA, holding it out to him. "Your schedule for today."

He stared at it, his brow furrowing. "Sorry Sayoko, it slipped my mind. Why – is there something I should know about?" He accepted the device with a slight smile.

"Ah, well, it's all in that PDA." Sayoko indicated the pink device he held in his hands. "You have a few dates lined up, and there's the political meeting in Shanghai as Zero, but I've allocated enough time in between that you should be able to handle everything according to the schedule."

"Dates?" asked Rolo, only half interested. He had his cell phone in one hand, the other cradling the locket that Lelouch had given to him.

Lelouch fumbled with the PDA, almost dropping it, but managed to right it in his hands. His eyes widened as he scrolled through the schedule. "Sayoko! What the hell is this schedule…?" he exclaimed, stunned as he read each line. 7:00 – Homemade lunchboxes from Mary for breakfast. 9:00 – Date with Giselle at Clovis Art Gallery. 10:30 – Shopping with Alice. 12:00 – Meet with Donna at the aquarium. Trade places with Sayoko. 12:05 – Commence activation of Shinkirou. Change in cockpit. 14:40 – Arrive in Chinese Federation. 15:00 – Sign commercial pact in Shanghai. 15:40 – Sightseeing in Shanghai. 17:20 – Commence activation of Shinkirou. Change in cockpit. 20:00 – Arrive at the aquarium. 21:00 – Watch a late-show movie with Miya. 23:30 – Meet with Shirley in front of…. Lelouch looked back at her, dumbfounded, a drop of sweat beading at the side of his face.

"Yes – you have dates with one hundred and eight females, scheduled over a period of six months. Because of that, your sleeping time is limited to three hours." Lelouch cringed. "It is a holiday today, but all the time slots are filled." His eye caught the last entry.

"And Shirley, too?"

"Ah, yes," Sayoko said, her tone level, "there was a development with Shirley. I had to kiss her to keep her from discovering the library elevator." Her voice seemed unconcerned.

Rolo shot to his feet. "You kissed her?!" His eyes were wide as Lelouch quivered in shock, his mind racing. All these dates, and Shirley, on top of that – he didn't know if he could figure out a way to get out of it.

"Yes – is that a problem? There was no way to avoid it." She regarded both Lelouch and Rolo blankly.

"Yes, that's a problem, Sayoko!" Rolo's voice was thick with panic. "I told you, Nii-san isn't like that! He would never have kissed Shirley, and he would never have agreed to those dates!" The younger boy leaned on the table, arms spread out and palms flat, supporting his weight. Villetta watched the three of them wordlessly, her lips parted in an expression of utter bafflement.

Though Lelouch agreed that it was out of character for him, he didn't really like the way that Rolo had said "never". After all, he had kissed Shirley before, even if she didn't remember it. And he would've gone on dates, perhaps not with those girls, but with someone, certainly – but he just didn't have the luxury of that kind of time.

"Nii-san," Rolo murmured, his panic fading into concern as he reached out to touch his brother's elbow. "Are you going to be all right?" Lelouch's brow twitched. He didn't know.

* * *

The door now closed behind him, Lelouch leaned against it heavily, as if afraid that the girls he had left in the courtyard would en masse try to test its hinges. His breathing was ragged – he was still recovering from the shock of Millay's announcement, her "Cupid Day" graduation event. Though it had saved him from Shirley's emotional tirade, he had the distinct feeling that he had been rescued out of the frying pan only to be tossed into the fire. At least that's what it had felt like, having had hundreds of female eyes swivel to him after Millay had proclaimed that wearing another's hat would, by the power vested in the Student Council, force those two into becoming a couple.

There was really nothing he could do about it now, and he sighed with resignation. It was a problem to be dealt with tomorrow. Right now, what he needed was a good, long night of sleep. Already fatigued upon returning to the Academy, the late night excitement had served only to add to his exhaustion.

In the morning, after his meeting with Villetta and Sayoko, he had been forced into date after date, and although an interesting diversion from his usual daily life, keeping up the façade had been tiring. A few times, he had almost made the fatal slip of addressing the girl he courted by the name of another. Thankfully, he hadn't committed that deadly mistake. The only consolation was that the signing agreement in the Chinese Federation had proceeded smoothly. Kallen, as expected, had avoided him, but he couldn't think about that now – he would confront that issue when the time was right.

As he walked wearily through the anteroom, his gaze touched upon the white shopping bag he had left there earlier, after returning from the aquarium. Along with the purple Chinese dress he had gotten for Shirley – a dress that she probably hated, judging by the way she tore it from his hands – he had bought another for C.C., also as a token of apology. This cheongsam was white, trimmed with red, and accented by embroidered, branching cherry blossoms at the left shoulder. Perhaps it was an artifact of first finding her in her restraint attire, but since the day he had met her, he almost always pictured her in white. He found it a good look for her. Lelouch swept up the bag in one hand, thinking that perhaps with all the commotion going on in the courtyard, she would still be awake.

Lelouch nearly missed a step when he mounted the spiral staircase, leading to the upper bedrooms. In the crisis with Shirley, he had completely forgotten about Anya, the Knight of Six. He didn't know how she could've had that photo of him, as a child, when he was still a prince – he knew by the background that it had been taken in mainland Britannia; more specifically, the Aries Imperial Villa. Was that the reason why she was here? It puzzled him.

His quiet contemplation was interrupted when he realized he now stood before the door to C.C.'s bedroom. It was slightly open, but he knocked, anyway – he didn't want to upset her over something as small as a formality. There was no answer. "C.C.," Lelouch called out softly after a moment. He could see inside – she had left the light on. With his free hand, he pushed open the door. The room was empty, save for Cheese-kun, who sat contentedly in the middle of the unmade bed. "Where could she be…?" he mumbled to himself, a brow furrowed.

Quickly he checked the other guest rooms, but they were all dark and empty. He supposed that he should consider himself lucky that the Knights of Rounds did not choose to live in the Student Council building during their time in the Academy. That would've been an endless source of trouble. Lelouch reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone and swiveling it open. No messages from C.C. He contemplated calling her, just to make sure she was all right, but an odd sound caught his attention. It was coming from the direction of his room.

He recognized the sound long before he reached the door to his bedroom. Lelouch had heard it often enough before. It was C.C., her rising moans filled with heat, and by the quickness of her breathing, it was clear that she was close to release. He knew he should leave her alone – that he should turn, embarrassed, and go back the way he came, but Lelouch found himself slowly opening the door, just a crack, to peek inside. The rhythm of her cries didn't change, and he knew he had not yet been discovered.

She was lying on his bed, utterly naked, her creamy white skin offset by the dark green of the comforter. A light sheen of sweat covered her body, making it glisten with the dim light from the chandelier above. Lelouch watched, entranced, as she shifted to her side, her knees drawn up near her chest. The straight green locks of her hair flowed around the curves of her body where it did not lay spread out on the bed. From where he stood at the door, he could see everything – her fingers, between her legs, slowly rubbing the swollen hardness of her clit, while her womanhood dripped in the height of her arousal.

"Lelouch..." she cried out hotly, her voice tight as her entire body tensed, paralyzed by the power of her orgasm. At the sound of his name, Lelouch almost jumped – he would have, had he not been staring at her so intensely. The quivering pleasure as her release subsided still made her toes curl, and she gasped with each aftershock. He saw now that she held something close to her chest with her other hand. It was his black school coat, accented with lines of gold. C.C. buried her face in it, and Lelouch realized, from the way that her body shook, that she was crying.

He backed away, stunned. His mouth was dry. He needed a shower. A cold shower. He swallowed, trying not to make too much noise as he stumbled unsteadily towards the bathroom.

* * *

Lelouch released an audible sigh of relief as footsteps fell in muffled silence on the carpeted floors of the library, glad that it was empty, for now. Thankfully, his dreaded blue, heart-shaped hat still perched precariously atop his head; he thought he had been done for, cornered as he had been by what seemed like all the girls in his class, including Shirley – especially after the President had made her announcement, declaring that any club retrieving his hat would have their funding tripled. Luckily Rolo had come to his rescue – one moment, he faced the girls, all charging forward to get at him, and the next, he found himself with Rolo inside of a cramped school locker. The girls, disappointed after he vanished, had cleared out of the classroom to look for him, giving him the chance to retreat to the library.

As frustrated as he was at Millay for making him the prime target of this graduation fiasco, Lelouch had to thank her. This had given him the solution to his girl problem – the chance to end relations with all the girls that Sayoko had promised he would date. He would let Sayoko make good sport of the game, and end it eventually with Villetta being the one to take his hat. She, however, seemed somewhat distraught at the idea. He supposed he couldn't blame her.

Lelouch stopped, surprised, when he felt the hat pull off of his head. He turned around, his hand moving to his left eye to withdraw the contact lens binding his Geass. "Give that back to me," he commanded, but was again caught off guard when he locked eyes with C.C., her own golden stare looking at him with no small amount of amusement. She was attired in the standard Ashford girls' uniform – a beige, form-fitting coat over a short black skirt. A pink heart crowned the top of her head. Briefly, the sight of her from the night before flashed through his mind. The memory made his cheeks tinge with red.

"Caught you," she murmured, her small smile redoubled by the gleam in her amber irises. Lelouch took her by the upper arm, quickly replacing the contact in his left eye and leading her toward the entrance to the hidden elevator. He tried to banish the thoughts of her, naked and sweaty, from his mind, but his hold on her slim arm kept reminding him of how soft she could be.

"You shouldn't be up here," he grumbled, but his scolding tone was only half-hearted. Leading her gently by the arm, he walked with her down a side passageway lined with shelves. "But now that you are, you might as well come with me." He stopped in front of the entrance to the hidden elevator. The shelves slid apart, revealing his mirrored reflection, or rather, Sayoko dressed as his double – she, however, still had the blue hat on her head.

"Perhaps I am too late?" she wondered in wry amusement, speaking in his voice, then added, "Ah, I suppose not," when she saw that it was C.C. whom he held. The green-haired woman cocked an eyebrow at her.

"I'll leave it up to you, Sayoko," he said breathily, drawing C.C. into the elevator with him as Sayoko stepped out.

"Of course, Lelouch-sama," was her curt reply. The doors slid closed.

C.C. stood nearby, at his side, her eyes downcast, the blue hat held delicately in her hands. When Lelouch realized that he was still holding her arm, he let go abruptly. She didn't move away, however, remaining close enough that he could feel the heat of her presence next to him. Her body brushed against his when the elevator slowed to a stop at the lower level.

"C.C.," he said gently as he stepped with her into the interim corridor, "I want to talk with you. Will you stay here for a moment? I just want to make sure that everything is moving according to plan, first." She gave him a small nod, but otherwise revealed nothing. Lelouch looked into her eyes, as if trying to decipher her nearly unreadable expression. After a moment, he returned her nod, walking quickly to the observation room.

Striding inside, Lelouch took in the wall of display screens with a glance. From the beginning, he knew that Sayoko would be going all out, so when he saw her leap onto the heads of the members of the rugby team, he tried to suppress his consternation. It was very out of character for him, of course, but there was no other way around it – she was just that kind of person. Sighing, he watched as his double dodged the volley of fireworks launched by the chemistry club, then easily vaulted over the alluring, scantily clad members of the Seduction Squad. He shook his head, walking back to where C.C. stood near the elevator. Sayoko would be substituting for him during his PE sessions, from now on.

Upon returning to C.C., Lelouch noted, with a slight frown, that she was wearing his blue hat, her pink one now held in her hands. Before he could ask her about it, she rather unceremoniously plopped it atop his head. "C.C.," he murmured quietly, taking her lightly by the wrists as she let her hands fall.

Her voice was level, a small thread of amusement evident in her features when she spoke. "You had something you wanted to say to me?" An eyebrow arched.

"Ah, well, yes." He wet his lips. "Well, uh, I'm-" he tripped over his words, letting go of her wrists upon realizing that he still held them. Lelouch drew in a long breath, collecting his thoughts. "I'm sorry," he began, "…sorry that I lost my temper with you, yesterday morning." His lips pursed. "I was… upset," he conceded, "but still, I shouldn't have taken it out on you." Gently, tentatively, he let his hands rest on her shoulders. "I want you to know that you're very important to me..." he said that somewhat unsteadily, glancing away to break her gaze for a moment, quietly finishing, "…what I want to say is that you… belong… at my side." He met her stare once more, and thought he saw a trace of a smile flicker across those amber irises.

C.C. reached up, her hands lightly smoothing the shoulders of his uniform, near his neck. Vaguely he wondered if the uniform he wore now was the same one she had clutched in her arms the night before. A trace of crimson flushed his cheeks. "Will you tell me, then, Lelouch," she murmured huskily, slender fingers now straightening the collar at his throat, "as the woman at your side, just what happened with Kallen?" She waited expectantly, the corners of her lips upturning in a slight smile as she held his gaze.

Swallowing visibly at the unexpected question, Lelouch took a few steps back, but she followed, her hands firmly gripping his uniform. It almost seemed as though she were pushing him along – and when he felt his back meet the elevator door, he knew he had been cornered. That didn't stop her – C.C. came closer, leaning into him, her arms slipping around his waist as if to make sure he could not get away. Although her lips were near enough that he could feel her warm breath on his face, she did not kiss him – she only watched, waiting, her eyes seeming to reflect back what little light there was in the corridor. Lelouch struggled to breathe, his words halting as he answered. "Well – ah – Kallen, she asked me to..." he said unsteadily, wetting his lips again, "…and well, we did... we slept together." Lelouch reddened, looking away, his tongue seeming too thick in his throat to speak.

"And afterwards?" The tone of her voice wasn't what he had expected; he had thought she would be angry, enraged, flaming with jealousy, or something like that, but instead, it was concerned, if a bit amused by his nervousness. Lelouch found himself ensorceled by her stare once more, those golden irises brilliant in the low light.

Thinking back to her question, his mouth tightened, the memory of what had happened darkening his mood. "After, she didn't even want to be in the same room with me. I don't know why." That utter rejection still stung.

"That's all, was it?" C.C. took a step back, a small frown forming on her lips. Her hands slid to his waist as she considered what he had confessed. "You had to have done something to set her off like that." The thought struck her abruptly, realization flashing in her face as she gripped the front of his uniform in both hands. "You said you love her?" The voice was accusatory.

Startled, Lelouch struggled to get out an explanation. "Well – she asked me to say it!" Violet eyes darted, as if trying to remember her exact words, then he found them. "She said that girls like to hear it!" To his surprise, C.C.'s sudden intensity now faded into mirth – she laughed, the sound lilting and sweet, as she leaned into his chest. After her outburst had died down to a soft chuckle, she pressed the side of her face to the hollow of his throat, at the top of his sternum.

"We want to hear it," she murmured softly, in tones startlingly open, vulnerable, "but only if it's true, Lelouch." Holding her gently, he was reminded of the time that he had rescued her, spiriting her away into a cave near Narita. She seemed as fragile now as she had been back then, more than a year ago. Lelouch stroked her hair, not protesting as she melted into his embrace, clinging to him, sharing their mutual warmth. Eyelids slowly closing, he let his breathing deepen to take in the unique, slightly spicy scent of her.

Their shared moment of silence ended too soon, though, cut short when one of Villetta's subordinates called to him, leaning partway out of the doorway to the conference room. "We've got a problem!" Lelouch opened his eyes, his gaze narrowing at the man, but he didn't let go of C.C. when he spoke. She seemed to appreciate that, her hands at his back clutching his uniform tightly in her fingers.

"What is it? Did someone take Sayoko's hat?" He was irritated at being interrupted, but such an obstacle to his plans could mean trouble.

"No, not that – it's Mordred! It's headed to the library!" Lelouch cursed – he had underestimated Anya, it seemed. To think she lacked such common sense that would even use her Knightmare Frame...

Lelouch's reply was curt, the alarm in his voice restrained. "Where's Sayoko? Shirley?" He let his right hand slip to the nape of C.C.'s neck, his thumb lightly stroking the skin behind her ear, as if to assure her that all would be well. She made a contented sound.

"They're both upstairs! Shirley's there, so Sayoko can't use the elevator..." Lelouch had heard enough. With a touch of his fingers to a control panel, the doors on which he leaned slid open, causing both him and C.C. to stumble inside. With another touch, they closed, and the elevator accelerated smoothly to the upper floor.

C.C. planted her hands on his chest, pushing herself away from him, but only slightly, as he still held her by the waist. Her eyes glistened moistly, and Lelouch looked down to see dark spots on his uniform, from her tears. "C.C.," he said tenderly, but she pressed a finger to his lips. Slowly that hand reached up, taking the pink hat off of his head and replacing it with his original blue.

"You can borrow this," she murmured, a smile flittering across her features. "Just remember who it belongs to." He knew what she meant, of course, having so many times reminded him that in the end, it would be just the two of them alone together. When the doors slid open, she surprised him, giving him a push out of the elevator and saying sweetly, just loud enough for him to hear, "I don't mind having to share – for now."

He only had a moment to wonder whether her implication meant she would "share" with Kallen, Shirley, or both, as together with a loud crash of splintering wood and fragmenting glass, Mordred forced its mechanized hand into the library, reaching for a stunned Shirley.

* * *

Lelouch pulled the pink hat from off of his head as he walked up the main staircase in the Student Council Building. He was glad that everything was over, of course – especially now that all of his dates were cancelled – but what surprised him most was that Shirley, when they had spoken at the foot of the stairs, had said much the same thing as C.C. He didn't feel the same way about Shirley as he did about C.C., of course, or even about Kallen, but she had been a good friend for longer than he had known either of the others. He felt responsible for what had happened to her – after all, he had killed her father, although inadvertently, and he had used his Geass to erase her memories; he was also the reason why her memories had been altered a second time, by Charles, his father.

If Shirley had fallen in love with the part of him that was Lelouch Lamperouge, and Kallen, the guise of Zero, he wondered whether C.C.'s feelings for him were thus the most authentic, the truest of the three, she having known of both sides of his character. He thought she would find the idea entertaining.

At least the mystery of the Knights of Rounds had been solved. Gino seemed utterly carefree, seeking only the entertainment and change of pace that school life brought him. Lelouch supposed he could understand that – the past few days had been interesting, in their own way. And Anya just wanted to find out who the boy in the picture had been. That troubled him somewhat – he was hesitant to ask who had taken that picture. Certainly, he had no memory of a girl like Anya during his childhood – then again, he had had no memories of Nunnally, either, up until C.C. had released him from that Geass. Lelouch shrugged away the thought.

When he entered his room, C.C. surprised him. He had expected her to be there, of course, but he hadn't thought she would be wearing the dress that he had bought for her – the white cheongsam, edged with red. It fit her snugly, clinging at the bodice to show off the curves of her breasts, the slimness of her waist, and the flare of her hips. The skirt was cut a bit shorter than he had pictured, ending at mid-thigh, with the slit on the side showing just a peek of the creamy skin at the sides of her hips. "I love it," she murmured, giving him a warm smile as she turned slowly in a circle, letting him see it to its full effect. Yes, it fit her quite snugly, he decided, coloring, his eyes shifting away. He noted that the girls uniform she had worn earlier in the day had been discarded haphazardly, in a messy pile on one side of the floor; she had just now changed into the dress.

"It looks," he cleared his throat, "quite good on you, C.C. I'm glad you like it." Returning her smile, Lelouch closed the distance between them, placing his hat next to the blue one on the desk before gently reaching over to fasten the last button by the side of her neck. When it was done, his brow furrowed, looking back again at the desk – at the blue, heart-shaped hat. "What's this?"

C.C. gave him a small, conspiratorial smile. "I said you could borrow it," she admonished, mock-scolding him, "not give it away. Sayoko returned it to me, after swapping hers with Shirley's." Lelouch returned her smile, chuckling.

"Weren't you the one who said that 'sharing' wouldn't bother you?" He stepped away, his fingers undoing the clasps of the uniform he wore as he walked to the wardrobe. Shrugging it off of his shoulders, Lelouch picked up a hanger, extending it with a press of a button, then hung up his coat. He grabbed another hanger, walking back towards her. Her eyes narrowed.

"I don't mind, for now," she corrected, her expression darkly amused, "but what's mine is mine, in the end." She watched him as he bent forward, picking up the beige coat of her uniform to hang it up beside his.

Turning from the wardrobe, Lelouch had just begun to unbutton his white undershirt when his eyes flicked to the rest of her clothes, noticing a pair of white panties and a matching brassiere that had been uncovered when he had taken her coat. He stared, his face flushing; C.C. followed his gaze. She laughed richly, huskily, her voice alluringly seductive when she spoke. "That's right, Lelouch," she answered, looking at him in a very direct manner, "it's just me under the dress." A crooked finger beckoned him closer. He swallowed, but complied.

As he came within arm's reach, her hands glided out to meet him, slowly stroking up the front of his chest. They centered on the buttons, methodically unfastening each one, starting from his neck and working her way lower. When enough of his shirt was undone to please her, she slipped her hands inside, feeling the warmth of his body, her lips planting soft kisses on the exposed skin. His own hands caressed her through the thin silk of her dress, slipping from the small of her back to explore further. His right hand moved up, along the curve of her spine, then found a comfortable spot between her shoulder blades. The left slid downward, feeling the curve of her hips, cupping her buttocks lightly. He squeezed, eliciting a heated laugh from her.

C.C. backed away enough to look up at him, her fingers balling into fists around the tails of his shirt. Apparently she had had enough of the buttons – she yanked, hard, and Lelouch could hear the muted click of plastic bouncing along the floor. Giving him a small smile, she slid her arms around him, under his shirt, letting her hands move up and behind to tug the article off of his shoulders. Lelouch responded by slipping his hand into the slit of her dress, at her hip, fingers sinking into the soft, yielding flesh. She gasped, moaning around the nipple she now teased with her mouth.

At her urging, he let his arms drop to his sides, allowing her to pull the shirt off the rest of the way. It fell forgotten on the floor, C.C. now concerned only with feeling the slim muscles of his chest with her hands, kissing and licking his skin. He managed to hike her dress up a bit, causing it to bunch around her slim waist, one hand massaging the curves of her rear while the other caressed her inner thigh, moving ever higher.

Her gasp echoed his own when he touched her, after what seemed an eternity of teasing. She was sodden with wetness, her lips swollen and sticky, quivering at even the lightest brush of his hand. Deftly, his fingers found the hard bead of her arousal, pinching and twisting it mercilessly. Her arms, now wrapped around his neck, were her only support when her legs gave out beneath her, knees turning to jelly, the release shuddering throughout her body. Using his free arm to hold her waist tight to him, he kissed the side of her neck as she recovered, C.C. panting audibly. His words were a warm whisper against her ear. "Come to bed with me...?"

Her tongue flicked out, licking his earlobe. "No," she said in a low, sultry murmur, "...right here is perfect." Sitting back on the edge of the desk, C.C.'s expression was wicked as she slowly lifted up one slim leg, bent at the knee. The dress was pulled mostly around her waist, now, and Lelouch stared at her inviting womanhood, her fingers slipping down to spread the lips wide apart. "Right here, Lelouch." His mouth felt suddenly dry. She waited.

Lelouch discovered in a moment of panic that his fingers didn't quite remember how to unfasten his belt. She laughed, reaching over to tug at the leather tongue of it, beckoning him closer. Finally, he remembered, and soon she had the throbbing hardness of him in her hand, guiding it up and down the length of her slit, until its tip glistened with her juices.

"Are you ready, C.C.?" he managed to ask, his breathing short and tight. She nodded, golden eyes gleaming with need, positioning him at her entrance. Sinking into her, he moaned, reveling in the slick heat that surrounded him, squeezing him in slow waves. Limbs tangling with his, C.C. held him tightly for a few moments, not moving, just wanting to feel him fully within her, her ankles locked around his waist. His hands were flat on the table, supporting himself behind her as she clung to him.

Slowly, she loosened her legs, letting him move. That brought a long moan from her, his manhood sliding nearly out of her before pushing its way back in. Her breaths came more quickly as he began to gain speed and momentum, each thrust more powerful than the last. He felt her slicken with release, her nails digging into his back, but he showed her no mercy, giving her no respite, so that each orgasm that rocked her followed on the heels of the last. Muffling her screams, she buried her face in his neck; the hot breath and saliva on his skin excited him.

Lelouch was close. His arms slid behind the crooks of her knees, holding her legs apart so he could enter her deeper, the front of his hips slamming against the inside of her thighs. She let go of him, falling backward to lie on the desk, clutching the pillowy blue hat to her chest tightly, biting down on it to stifle her cries. The erotic sight of her, the dress pushed up around her waist, her skin tinged with red, the cast of her eyes as they stared into his, lost in bliss, the way that her hair fell perfectly on the desk beneath her, the feel and sound of her swollen lower lips, sucking him back inside in invitation whenever he withdrew – all of it brought forth his release, Lelouch collapsing atop of her as his seed spilled forth, pulsing inside her, but not before his thumb found her clit, rubbing vigorously and sending her over the brink of her own climax, her hips gyrating against his hand, her sex tightening, squeezing the last drops from him.

He kissed her, long and deep, before they both had to gasp for breath, panting as they recovered. Her fingers ran through his dark hair, damp with sweat. He nuzzled her neck, licking the salt from her skin. She rocked her hips back and forth, pleased that he was still hard and ready inside her. "Let me clean you off," she murmured with a hot breath into his ear.

When he straightened, C.C. still clung to him, keeping him inside her for as long as was possible. Her legs lowered, tentatively touching the ground, and when she was sure of her footing, she hesitantly pushed him away, the feeling of emptiness without him eliciting a soft sigh of regret.

Lelouch was in an uncomprehending daze as she slid to her knees in front of him, her hands trailing down the front of his body. One hand slipped to hold his shaft near the base, while the other gently fondled his balls. Her lips parted, each warm breath on the tip of his manhood causing tingling pleasure to spread throughout him. He watched, mesmerized, as her tongue slowly extended, tentatively licking the underside of the head, tasting his juices combined with hers. The tip of her pink tongue swirled around him, feeling every ridge and contour, teasing, until finally, when he could stand it no more, she engulfed him with her mouth.

The sensation was wonderfully hot and wet. She moved slowly, savoring the taste, and with each stroke, she took a little more of him inside her. He could feel the insides of her back teeth, rubbing against his skin in a sharp twang of pleasurable pain. Her tongue, which danced along the underside of his shaft, was pure bliss. When her lips reached the hand around the base of his shaft, she backed off, skimming a loose fist along the wet length of him and sucking one of his balls into her wanton mouth.

Lelouch moaned, his fingers working into her hair. She looked up at him, and with her eyes heavy with desire, she set the tip of his manhood against her pursed lips. Her hands slid behind him, to the small of his back. She didn't move, gazing up at him, beckoning him. Slowly, he pressed his hips forward, pushing past the tightness of her lips and into her waiting mouth, going deeper until he felt resistance at the back of her throat; he stopped, but she forced herself forward, her throat loosening to take him fully inside, her lips wrapped around the very base of him. Her tongue slid outward, licking the skin beneath, before she withdrew entirely, gasping for air. He quivered. He had almost lost control when she had deep-throated him. C.C. smiled knowingly up at him, giving the tip of his saliva-coated shaft a quick kiss before rising to her feet.

"Now that you're ready," she said as she turned her back to him, leaning over the desk with her upper body and wiggling her hips in the air, "...maybe we should try it... here?" She looked back at him suggestively, her right hand pulling aside one lush cheek of her buttocks, exposing the tightened sphincter above her sex.

Lelouch was stunned. "C.C…" he managed to say, the shock obvious on his face. She laughed lasciviously.

"Come on, just put it in." She licked her lips. "It'll feel good." She swayed her hips again, inviting.

His left hand squeezing the other cheek, he angled the tip of his manhood at her entrance with his right hand, the shaft still slick with her saliva. Slowly, he pushed against it, but he found tight resistance, her body not quite willing to let him enter. She stopped him, slicking her fingers using the wetness of her sex, and then slid those fingers inside her with a moan. When she withdrew them, her rear entrance had loosened slightly. He pressed against it once more, leaning into it, and reluctantly, it admitted him, C.C. inhaling sharply with the intrusion.

The sensation of it was unlike anything he had ever felt. The first inch of her was like a tight ring, gripping him firmly around his shaft, followed by an inviting, diffuse warmth. She moaned when the front of his hips met the curves of her buttocks, now fully sunken inside her. "You can move," she said between ragged breaths, "but just… take it slow.…"

He didn't have to do it slowly for long. When he felt her relaxing, that coil of muscle loosing its grip slightly, he was able to speed up his pace, she accepting him easily, passionately now, her hips rocking back to meet his with every thrust. Each time he slammed into her, it seemed to knock the breath from her lungs, and she gasped anew, holding the blue hat tightly in her hands as though it anchored her to reality.

Sensing his impending climax, Lelouch slid his hand around her, down her lower belly. When she realized what he was about, she grabbed his hand, looking over her shoulder, eyes desperate. "No, Lelouch – it's too much!" He thrust into her again, causing her to bite back a cry.

"It's okay," he gasped, "– I'm almost..." Reluctantly, she released his hand, allowing him to slide his fingers down to the wetness of her sex. He stroked her painfully hard clit back and forth, causing her hips to buck as the anticipated pleasure coursed through her. Screaming now in her long delayed release, C.C. didn't bother muffling the sound; with her orgasm, the ring of flesh tightened around him unexpectedly, taking him with her in her ecstasy. Lelouch sank atop of her, his chest heaving with every unsteady breath. When his hand found hers, she clutched it gratefully.

* * *

As C.C. lay contentedly atop of him on the bed, Lelouch stroked the skin of her back, still damp from the shower they had shared. She nuzzled into his chest with the touch, her eyes closed. Quietly, he whispered her name – her true name. She smiled, crawling up the line of his body so that their eyes were level, her polished amber irises drinking deeply of his own dark violet. The locks of her hair gently licked the sides of his face, surrounding him in a curtain of green, so that all he saw was her, suspended above him, her lips a hairsbreadth away from his. Her eyes quivered, reflecting the sense of vulnerability revealed as again in the tremble of her lower lip, in the slight red flush of her cheeks.

When she kissed him, softly, tenderly, a sudden wave of understanding rushed through him: all her years alone, running, sometimes so afraid that she could only huddle in a corner, praying to be overlooked – all the deaths that she had survived, hoping that perhaps the next one would finally end the misery of her immortal life – all the friends and lovers she had lost in the swirling passage of time. The words she had spoken, in that moment of shared consciousness on Kaminejima, rang through his mind. His own reply came unbidden to his lips.

"If you are a witch," he murmured, stroking her cheek, "then I will become a warlock." Tears welled in her eyes, and he held her against his neck as she cried.

* * *

The dim, early morning light of impending dawn crept hesitantly through the slight cracks between the heavy maroon curtains, as if afraid to intrude upon the peaceful calm of the serene bedroom within. Only one figure occupied the wide bed fitted with white linens, and Lelouch watched her intently as she slept, he having woken some time ago.

Eyes of a polished deep violet traced the lines of her body, just half covered by the thin white bed sheet that clung to her skin. The dark green comforter, being far too heavy for the heated embrace they had shared last night, lay now at the foot of the bed, forgotten; as if even still too warm for her tastes, C.C. shifted in her sleep, the edge of the sheet sliding down her side to settle in the curve of her slim, pale waist.

Sinking back into the chair at his desk, Lelouch let his eyes take in the sight of her once more. Her hair, a healthy, shimmering green, fell around her body with an uncanny perfection, looking not at all mussed despite having been worn to bed down and wet; instead, it framed her form in startling contrast to the smooth alabaster of her skin. She was laying on her right side, one hand tucked under the pillow beneath her head, while the other rested easily at the side of her upper thigh, the elbow of that arm angled slightly behind her. Her left leg was half drawn up, bent at the knee, while the right extended fully, the shape of her legs quite discernable with the way that the thin fabric hugged their contours. Even in sleep, she seemed to offer herself in open invitation. Lelouch looked briefly away, his cheeks warming with a sudden flush of unexpected embarrassment.

He found himself drawn to it again – the thing that so often caught his attention. He followed the lines of the jagged red scar that marked her chest, beneath her left breast, sloping up with its curve. It was a vertical slash, running along the length of her torso, flanked by twin fronds that resembled swept-back wings. Though the position of the scar on her body was a provocative one, the presence of the scar itself was what puzzled him.

Lelouch knew that among other things, one of the traits marking C.C. as more than human was her remarkable regenerative capability. Twice now, he had seen her recover from fatal wounds, and numerous non-fatal injuries, yet every time, her healing left no scar. On Kaminejima, when they had shared one another's consciousness as a result of a mind trap that had been left behind for them, Lelouch had seen some of her past lives – or rather, past deaths. Likewise, however, those wounds marred not an inch of her body, the only imperfection being the unusual symbol beneath her breast. Vaguely he wondered whether that wound had been inflicted when she was still human – if she had ever even been a normal human.

As intently as he watched the rise and fall of her chest with every breath, Lelouch noticed when that rhythm changed, interrupting for a moment, before deepening. Glancing up to her face, he wasn't surprised when yellow eyes met his violet, regarding him through thick, half-lowered eyelashes. "Come back to bed," she murmured softly in a voice still contented with sleep. He sighed, giving her a tight-lipped smile of apology.

"I can't." Pushing himself to his feet wearily, Lelouch gave a small groan as his muscles protested against the sudden movement. It seemed as though his whole body ached, the exertions of last night now taking their toll. But it was a satisfied soreness, at least. "You can get some more rest, if you'd like. I need to shower and get dressed." He leaned down, letting his fingers gently tucked an errant lock of green hair behind her ear. "Today's a school day, after all. And when class is over, I'll be going to the Ikebukuro Station."

Her slim hand enclosed his wrist. "A date with Shirley?" Though on the surface, her tone sounded unconcerned, Lelouch knew by the cast of her eyes as they looked at him coolly that she was a bit slighted, perhaps even somewhat jealous. Sharing, as she had put it, might bother her more than she let on. He tried to keep that amusement out of his eyes as a disarming smile touched his lips.

"No. The Gefjun train is almost complete – I want to make sure that the system is operational." As though satisfied with the answer, she released his hand and pulled the sheets up over her exposed body, getting more comfortable. Her eyes closed.

Lelouch straightened and tightened the knot at the waist of the maroon robe he wore. It was getting late, and the sun beat more insistently upon the closed curtains at the windows. Stretching to relieve some of the dull ache from his body, Lelouch turned away, his gait smooth despite the soreness. Her voice stopped him as he rounded the foot of the bed, halfway to the door.

"Suzaku," she said quietly, not turning over to look at him, "…does he know? That you are Zero – the new Zero." Although at first taken aback by the unexpected change of subject, Lelouch turned his thoughts to consider her question, his lips pursing in contemplation.

"He suspects," he said at last, "but he doesn't know for certain." He didn't face her. "I… made a mistake, when Nunnally reinstated the Special Administration Zone." A soft sigh left his lips before he continued. "That plan only worked because I know Suzaku so well – I relied on the fact that he wouldn't give the order to open fire. An impostor couldn't have predicted what he would do." His mood lifted somewhat. "But what he doesn't know is that Villetta and her Secret Intelligence Agency are working with us to deceive him. With Sayoko as my double here in the Academy, he can't reconcile what he believes about Zero and what he sees is true about me." When C.C. offered nothing in reply, he continued on his way to the bathroom, closing the bedroom door gently behind him.

There was a flaw in his plan of protection, he knew – it was its heavy reliance on the charade that Villetta and Rolo upheld. As entrenched as they both were, Lelouch didn't believe that they would betray him at this point, but an unanticipated investigation aroused by suspicions of the Secret Intelligence Agency's goings-on could shatter the farce just as easily as a betrayal from its center participants.

The incident with Anya at the library was a prime example. Without thinking, Lelouch had darted in to save Shirley when Mordred's arm had reached in to snatch her; he only found out after the fact that Sayoko, too, had been there. From his confrontation with her earlier, Lelouch knew that Anya had taken an interest in him, to find out who he was; if she had seen him and Sayoko together, it could spell ruin for his cover in the Academy. Worse yet, Villetta had confessed that in order to make the Knight of Six withdraw, she had had to inform her that the Agency was conducting an operation in the school, implicating herself in the deceit. Although by her actions, Anya had demonstrated that she certainly had little sense, Lelouch couldn't gamble on her inability to put two and two together, or the certain danger that would follow if she breathed a word about it to Suzaku.…

He dismissed the troubling thought from his mind. Knowing that eventually he would need to give up his double life at Ashford Academy, Lelouch had contingencies planned should something threaten the precarious façade that he upheld. He would hate to leave Shirley and Rivalz, but it would be for the better, for his safety and theirs. Trouble with Anya might accelerate his plans, but for now he would wait, to make sure that Anya posed such a threat before acting to subdue her. Using his Geass, he could at the very least dissuade her interest in discovering who he was, or at the very most, order her to end her life. Confident in his ability to manage any trouble that might arise, he sauntered into the bathroom, turning the valve for the shower and letting the water warm, before undressing and stepping inside.

End Chapter 2

* * *


	3. Amends

Standard Disclaimer: Code Geass and its characters are not my property, etc. If you're offended by explicit, mature themes, then read on and let me try to change your mind. 18+ please.

Timeline Note: This chapter takes place prior to the attack on the Geass Cult in R2, Episode 14.

Author's Note: After some C.C. fan service in Ch2, we're going back to Kallen. Sorry C.C. fans – I'm really a Kallen guy at heart.

* * *

**The Castaway Prince – A Code Geass Lemon Fanfiction by ClockMaker411**

Chapter 3 - Amends

Rounding the top of the flight of escalator stairs, Lelouch strained to keep the breathlessness out of his voice, regretting now that the diversionary smoke he had released into Ikebukuro Station had also unintentionally immobilized the escalators. "Yes – I sent Jeremiah," he managed between panting gulps of air, "he'll take care of any obstacles." The cell phone pressed close against his ear, he tried to ignore the clamor of his own footfalls as he ran, as well as the rapid thrum of his pulse, keeping the rhythm of his exertion. "No, don't fight him! He's on our side now!"

As he cut across to a second flight of escalators, something off in the wide open hall to his right caught his eye, compelling him to slow to a stop. The smoke still lingered, clouding the air in a room illuminated only by a large, decorative window – a sprawling affair made of curved wrought iron and cut glass. Lelouch hardly noticed; his gaze was intent on a figure lying supine in the middle of the marbled floor, its presence in stark contrast to the eerie emptiness he had seen throughout the remainder of the station. It couldn't be her – she was safe. Suzaku would be protecting her. He was just imagining things – this had to be someone else. Yet, somehow, he knew it was her.

"Shirley!" The wide expanse of the high-ceilinged gathering room echoed the punctuated staccato of his footfalls as Lelouch ran toward her, skidding to a halt and crouching at her side. She was lying in a pool of red, her blood spreading irregularly beneath her. The pink, sleeveless blouse she wore was soaked in crimson at her torso, just below her breasts. Looking down, he now saw the cause – a small, round bullet hole, beneath her sternum, bubbled unsettlingly with blood and air. "Who could've done this?" His face a mask of confusion, horror, and fear, Lelouch stared aghast, stunned, afraid to touch her.

As if responding to the sound of the familiar voice, Shirley's eyelids slid half open, her green irises looking weakly up at him through heavy lashes. "Lelou?" she asked, as if not quite believing he was there. A smile flitted across her features. "I'm so glad I got to speak with you at the end." Her voice, as did her eyes, reflected not the pain of her injury, but almost a numb, melancholy acceptance of her fate – the relief of suffering brought upon by death.

He wouldn't accept it – he couldn't. Flipping open his cell phone, Lelouch frantically thumbed the keys. "It's not the end! I'll call an ambulance right now, so please, hold on!" Unexpectedly, her hand came up, cradling his own around the body of the phone. Her fingers were weak – so weak, and cold. A hesitant smile touched her lips before she spoke in a small, soft voice.

"You know, I was really scared when I got my memories back…" she began, Lelouch's eyes widening, though he said nothing. "A fake teacher, friends without memories, everyone was lying." She stilled, looking away for a moment. "I felt like the whole world was watching me." Her gaze returned to him, and his eyes, still wide with stunned disbelief, remained locked on hers. "Lelou, you've been fighting alone in a world like that... all alone… That's why I wanted to become the one thing that was true to you…"

"Shirley..." he trailed off, not knowing what to say. She continued, her voice unbearably quiet, but carrying a faint hint of resolve.

"I love you, Lelou." She managed to smile, squeezing his hand gently over the cell phone. "Even though I found out you got my father involved, I couldn't bring myself to hate you." His eyes quivered, welling at the edges with unshed tears. "Even though you made me forget everything, I came to love you again..." Her fingers tightened weakly on his once more. "Even when my memories were manipulated, I still came to love you again…." Her voice faded into silence as her eyes began to close.

"You can't…! Don't die, Shirley!" Lelouch brought up his free hand, swiftly removing the contact lens that bound the winged Geass in his left eye. That violet gaze was intense and frantic as he nearly shouted the command at her, the brilliant magenta of the Geass alighting from his eye to hers, edging her green irises with the reddish glow of its power. She seemed to pay the command no heed, her voice now barely above a whisper.

"No matter how many times I'm reborn, I'm sure I'll come to love you again, Lelou." He could feel the pooling blood beneath her soaking into the knee of his slacks, kneeling as he was beside her. It was warm, such a strange contrast to the chilled hand that clutched his with so little strength. "This must be fate, right?" She offered him a slight smile, one that barely curved her lips.

"Don't die, Shirley!" he shouted again, casting his Geass over and over, but in her weakness, the command could not hold. "Don't die! Don't die!" His teeth clenched in a desperate grimace.

"So it's okay, right, Lelou?" Tears collected at the corners of her eyes. "To be reborn, and come to love you again?" His own tears were streaming down his face, dripping from his chin to land on the bloodstained front of her blouse. "I'll come to love you, no matter how many times… I'll fall in love with you… but until then, will you do something for me…?"

"Shirley…" he managed through the tears, jaw clenched tight in anguish.

"Kiss me, Lelou? To sustain me, until I can love you again…" She smiled weakly, pleadingly, up at him, as he slowly leaned down, touching his lips to hers in a soft, light kiss. Her eyes closed, and his followed suit, cutting off the tears. She trembled with the gentle, lingering touch, her flesh cold against his warmth. Lelouch could taste her blood through the kiss as he took her last breath, Shirley going limp, her hand falling from his. He drew back, violet eyes frantic.

"Shirley, Shirley!" Holding her shoulders tight in his hands, he shook her, trying futilely to wake her, but she didn't move, her chest gone forever still. In that sudden moment of hopeless despair, Lelouch threw back his head, screaming her name in anguish, as if to banish the overbearing silence of death's embrace.

* * *

Eyelids snapping open, Lelouch came suddenly awake, his violet eyes staring uncomprehendingly at the white painted ceiling above, barely visible in his dimly lit sleeping quarters. Forcibly he quelled the shout that had been building in his throat, culling it into a voiceless whisper. "Shirley..." It had been the dream, again, so vivid in his mind, the details as rich in wakefulness as they appeared in sleep, opening anew the wound that remained raw and untended in his guilt over her death.

What he wanted was comfort – the feel of the warm flesh of another next to his. Turning to lie on his left side, Lelouch reached out an arm to pull C.C. into the curve of his body. His hand groped outward, but found nothing, the bed otherwise empty. It took him a moment to realize the reason why she wasn't there beside him – that of course, she wouldn't be there. He had sent her away.

The night after Shirley had died, Lelouch, burning with cold, unabated rage, had sworn to lay waste to the Order – the underground society that researched and experimented upon Geass users. He would destroy them completely and without mercy. Though she had been a leader of that organization in the past, C.C. had given her word to follow through with its destruction. And in the midst of his grim, fiery resolve, C.C. had asked him a question. Her words seemed to resonate within the small room, though he heard them only in his mind. "So have you come to hate the power I have granted you, Lelouch – have you come to hate me…?" He had given no answer, and in his silence, he had sent her away.

The sheet that covered him slid to his waist as he sat up in the bed, Lelouch bringing one hand to his head, massaging his temples with his fingertips. He knew that his hatred toward the Order was somewhat misguided. Geass had toyed with Shirley, ultimately leading to her death, and V.V. was the cause of that influence, but Lelouch, himself, had let her die.

Although time and time again he had seen the consequences of allowing her to become involved, to get too close to him, to let her love him, Lelouch had done little to dissuade her. He didn't know why he hadn't – perhaps it was as she said; she was just fated to love a man who could not be loved, whose love could only bring death to those around him. More likely, though, he had let her come closer to him because he craved something of that aspect of a normal life – the simple, sweet innocence of a high school crush. But if he had cared for her, he wouldn't have let his selfish emotions cloud his judgment, his reason. If he had cared for her, he would have ended it, pushing her away to keep her from loving him. If he had truly cared for her, and had been as hard with her as he should have, she might still be alive.

It had taken her death to make Lelouch finally realize that he could no longer have that wedge of a normal life, embodied in his time at Ashford Academy. It didn't really seem worth it anymore, what with Rivalz being the only other original member left on the Student Council. Shirley was dead. Millay had graduated. Nina was working for Schneizel, of all people, though he didn't know just what she was doing for his half-brother, the Second Prince. Kallen was aboard the Ikaruga with him, at least. And Suzaku had been charged with protecting Nunnally.

Only for her sake, Nunnally's sake, had he ordered Villetta to maintain the ruse in Area 11 – to keep feeding false information to her superiors, although neither he nor Sayoko were present. V.V. had sent Jeremiah Gottwald to investigate the Secret Intelligence Agency's operation at the academy, having suspected that Lelouch had turned both Villetta and Rolo to his side. Though Jeremiah was now loyal to him and the Order, along with V.V., would soon be dealt with, Lelouch couldn't know if other eyes remained watchful for any abnormalities associated with the Britannian student, Lelouch Lamperouge. Suzaku would be watching, certainly, but his absence after Shirley's death would hardly be out of character for him. Further, even if Suzaku discovered the truth, Lelouch was confident that he would let no harm come to Nunnally.

What he didn't know was if the usefulness of his cover itself in the Academy had been compromised due to the commotion that Jeremiah had raised in search of him. At least, for the most part, that situation had been handled, as far as he could tell. Those that had been involved in the incident, and had survived, had all been brought back under Lelouch's control using his Geass. The nullification brought about by Jeremiah's Geass Canceller apparently had the side effect of allowing Lelouch to recast his own Geass upon a person once more – Shirley and the others had attested to that.

Though he couldn't be certain, Lelouch supposed that for now, at least, his identity was still intact. Had they suspected otherwise, he reasoned that the Britannians would be using Nunnally as a hostage or bait of some type, forcing him out into the open. Her status as Governor-General had not changed, however – to the Britannians, she remained useful only in the sense that her presence in Area 11 had ended direct confrontation between the Order of the Black Knights and the standing Britannian forces, as Nunnally had been instrumental in the withdrawal of the Japanese to Penglai Island. They did not know the true reason behind the cessation of action, Lelouch wanting no harm to come to his sister in any kind of direct attack upon the Tokyo Settlement.

Sliding his legs off of the bed and standing unsteadily, Lelouch braced himself on the wall flanking the door of his bedroom, which led out into the far larger lounge section of his quarters. His fingers found the panel controlling the door, and with a hiss, it slid open, causing him to shut his eyes with the sudden influx of white light from the lounge. When his vision adjusted to the brightness, he found that the lounge was empty, as he had expected. Only C.C. had free access into his private quarters onboard the Ikaruga, for obvious reasons, and she had little cause to be waiting there for him, especially at such an early hour in the morning. The room was far larger than he had expected to find in the aerial battleship, with tall, book-lined shelves on one side and a trio of maroon-cushioned benches surrounding a long, low table in the middle. The opposite wall was dominated by a large communication screen, set in a green, metal stand.

With another touch to a panel, he opened the spacious side closet and withdrew a clean shirt from the small dresser tucked inside. Lelouch slid his arms through the long sleeves, not yet bothering to button it but instead letting it hang loose and open around his chest as moved to sit on one of the low benches in the center of the room. Leaning back and crossing his legs, he idly rubbed his chin as he contemplated the only adornment on the center table – his familiar black and red chessboard, pieces neatly arranged atop of it. He reached out, snatching up the black piece that rested at one corner of the board, and holding it lightly in his fingertips, he inspected it with an air of cold calculation.

He had made another mistake that had led to Shirley's death – he had underestimated Rolo. Upon finding Lelouch kneeling over her body, Rolo had admitted that he had shot Shirley because she had discovered the truth about Zero – and that she, pistol in hand, had been intent on doing him harm. Lelouch knew the lie in that, of course, having only moments before heard her confession. It had taken all of his self-control not to go for Rolo's throat, to strangle him then and there, to throttle the life out of him. Instead, he had managed to force a smile and tell him that he had done well, that he had done the right thing, despite how much he seethed beneath the thin veneer of forced brotherly affection.

Rolo was a liability. Lelouch had foolishly believed that he could keep his younger brother in check, and Shirley's murder had proved how wrong he was. It had always been his plan to use Rolo for his own aims, then to discard him, but his overconfidence in thinking he could control the boy had shown how much of a danger that his brother could be. After all, Rolo was a killer. He had known nothing but killing since the age of six, when he was taken in by V.V. and employed by the Order as an assassin. The only shred of humanity left in him was his love for Lelouch – but even that was twisted, as he would be quick to resort to his old ways should anything threaten that relationship. He was like a venomous snake, striking out at anyone who came too close to his master. But for now, he still had a use for him – he would use Rolo to help destroy the Order that had created him, and if he perished in the process, it would only be fitting.

Lelouch knew that Rolo had to die, and not only in retribution for Shirley. He had to be killed for Nunnally's sake. The future that Rolo envisioned would not accommodate a sister – it would not allow anyone but his Nii-san, for that matter. If given the chance, Lelouch had no doubt that Rolo would murder Nunnally, and she, blind and crippled, helpless, could do nothing to stop him. To protect Nunnally, Rolo had to die.

A disturbing thought struck him then, and he gripped the black rook tightly in his fist. Kallen. He knew that Rolo was intensely jealous, and he had surmised that he killed Shirley partly because of that jealousy. C.C., at least, was safe; he suspected that she would not be affected by Rolo's Geass, just as she was immune to Mao's and his own power. Further still, her remarkable regenerative capabilities made Rolo no threat. But Kallen would be vulnerable. If Rolo found out about his feelings toward Kallen...

Lelouch glanced up when an electronic chime from the main door caught his attention. "Who is it? C.C.?" After saying the name, he realized it had been unnecessary of him to ask – C.C. would've simply sauntered inside and not have waited for him to allow her in. Still, he wasn't sure who would want to see him so early in the morning.

The female voice that came in reply over the intercom was hesitant, somewhat nervous. "Umm, no... it's me, Kallen." Kallen? He hadn't expected her, but it was just as well; this would be an opportune time to set things right, to correct the mistake he had almost made with her, as he had with Shirley. "Can I speak with you, Lelouch?" She added, "I'm alone." He had gathered as much since she had addressed him by his first name.

He stood, replacing the rook on the chessboard and striding to the door. Fingertips playing deftly on the keypad, Lelouch paused before unlocking it, drawing in a deep breath to steady himself. Forcibly he changed his demeanor, donning a mask that showed no outward emotion. With a final touch on the control panel, the door slid open to reveal the young woman on the other side. The main door, behind her, remained closed; only the executive members of the Black Knights knew that combination, as another precaution for his privacy and protection.

His cold, violet gaze lifted to her own sea blue, and she looked away, her eyes content to stare at some unseen spot on the floor. Save for two long locks framing the sides of her face, Kallen's red hair was held back by the usual red headband favored by all of the former Resistance members, the remainder forming a spiky shag around the back of her head. She wore a loose yellow top with black straps over bare shoulders, three of its four buttons undone, only the second holding it closed about the light pink tube top beneath. The top was short, exposing the skin of her midriff, up until the gray-lined black shorts that were part of her Black Knights uniform. Thigh-high leggings of a matching light pink completed the look.

A casual gesture of his hand indicated the gold-railed couches in the center of the room. "There's something I wanted to discuss with you as well. Will you have a seat?" She didn't move, and Lelouch, looking back at her, noticed her staring at the bare line of the skin of his chest, exposed by the unbuttoned shirt. "Sorry." He started to do up the buttons, watching silently as she cautiously stepped inside, the door sliding closed.

She didn't sit, preferring instead to stand with her back towards the golden railing of the couches behind her; nor did she meet his gaze, her eyes diverted down and away. Her hands rubbed her upper arms, as if suddenly cold. Since she didn't speak, Lelouch cleared his throat politely. Startled by the abrupt noise, Kallen glanced at him for a brief moment before dropping her eyes to regard the floor once again. "Sorry," she said at last, the inflection in her voice uncertain, "maybe you should go first?"

"Very well." Crossing his arms, Lelouch fixed her with a violet stare so intent that under its weight, she had not choice but to meet his eyes. For her sake, he would set things right. He steeled his countenance, and in an assertive voice, he stated, "Kallen, I'm removing you from Team Zero, effectively immediately. You will not be participating in tomorrow's mission. Jeremiah will be taking your place." She sputtered, and he waited, showing no reaction to the wide-eyed shock and outrage that colored her features. When she managed to speak, it was in a rush, her protests running over one another before the first was fully formed.

"What?! Why? I'm the best pilot you have! And Orange will be..?!" Her blue eyes narrowed at him, blazing with indignation. "Hey, Lelouch," she growled, "how can you put your trust in such a suspicious person?"

He bore her glare calmly as he walked to the nearest bench and took a seat, forcing her to turn if she wished to remain looking at him. "I won't go into details, but I know that Jeremiah is loyal. He's bested Sayoko in hand to hand combat, and once we capture Siegfried, he'll be more than a match for any Knight of Rounds." His elbow on the armrest, Lelouch rubbed his chin with the fingers of one hand, eyes regarding her without expression. "Kallen, you're the ace of the Black Knights, but lately you've been too reckless – you're taking too many risks. Xingke was able to capture you because you took off before checking your energy filler, right?" Grimacing, she gave a grudging nod. "A mistake like that could've gotten you killed." He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry it had to come to this, but it's clear that your personal feelings are affecting your performance in the field. The other pilots have noticed it as well."

Kallen remained quiet, offering no argument, her countenance stricken with hurt when he glanced at her. It pained him to see that expression so plain on her features, so he looked down, his own eyes closing as his hand, fingers splayed, shaded his face. It would all go to waste if he revealed concern for her now. As hard as it was on her, he did this for her own good – for her own safety. He would not let Kallen, too, die for the mistake of getting too close to him – too close to a man who walked the path of carnage. For her sake, he would be as hard as was necessary – for her sake, to save her life, he would send her away.

Lelouch had another reason for barring Kallen from the upcoming sortie. The attack on the Order would not be a battle, but a slaughter – it wouldn't be a Knightmare to Knightmare engagement, but a massacre of people who were little more than civilians, the Black Knights using the element of surprise and an overwhelming amount of force. He steeled his resolve, jaw clenching. Merciless brutality was what would be needed, and he didn't want to expose Kallen to that kind of cold-blooded killing.

That, too, was why he had kept the details of the mission classified from the rest of the Executive Committee, and why aside from Jeremiah, Rolo, and C.C. herself, he would only use lower level Knightmare pilots as Team Zero's support. To anyone who didn't know the truth of the organization, the attack would look like the butchery of innocent noncombatants – they were a community of researchers, after all, just men, women, and children, and C.C. had confirmed that they would give little resistance. But the power they cultivated, the Geass that they studied, was the true, unseen threat, and he would destroy it before it could be used to harm him once again. Lelouch no longer harbored any naïve notions about controlling the Order, as he had tried to control Rolo; his own Geass had proved enough in the past, and was all he would need now. No, he would not risk more lives by trying to turn them to his cause. He would destroy the Order, to deprive his father of a valuable resource. He would destroy the Order, and Rolo, too, as atonement for Shirley.

Lelouch gave a start when he felt warm hands slipping to cup the sides of his face, holding him gently, but firmly. When his eyes opened, he found himself staring into Kallen's twin pools of sapphire blue, glistening moistly at their edges. Surprised at seeing her so close, her face only inches away from his, Lelouch instinctively moved back until he was stopped by the golden-railed backrest of the bench; she followed suit, remaining near, her legs drawing up on either side of his so that she knelt atop his lap. He swallowed audibly, looking anywhere but at her face. A crack fissured along the surface of the steely outer mask he wore. "Why, Lelouch...?" she said quietly, her tone barely above a whisper, in a voice that sounded on the verge of tears, "...why are you trying to push me away?"

No – he couldn't give in to her. He would do as he must, because of his feelings for her. That stiffened his resolve, and he gathered all the iciness he could muster. Meeting her gaze at last, Lelouch saw something in her eyes quiver, perhaps in reaction to the hardness of his own stare when it settled on her. "That's what you wanted, wasn't it?" The biting words embodied all the coldness of his expression, and she looked away as if stung, her lower lip trembling. Her voice came in a weak, plaintive reply.

"You know that's not it." With her eyes downcast, Kallen said nothing for a time, as if collecting her thoughts. In the lingering silence, Lelouch became keenly aware of her closeness, her heat and warmth, the way that her short breaths tickled his face, and how the loose clothing she wore allowed him to see the sweet, upper slopes of her breasts, bent over as she was on top of him. His throat felt suddenly dry, a tinge of red flaring in his cheeks, and despite how hard he struggled to keep his composure, the fissure spider-webbed.

Almost as if she had just then made a decision, Kallen settled her eyes back on him, the resolute cast in her features matching the intentness in her stare. "I tried to run away from you," she said in that quiet, quavering voice, "I tried to hate you." Her hands at the sides of his face slid to the back of his neck and up, behind his head, tangling her fingers in his hair. "I did it because when we were together, it felt…" she hesitated, her breath catching in her throat, before finishing, "…perfect. It felt right." She offered him a small, abashed smile, her lashes shading her eyes for a moment before lifting to regard him once more. "To me, it was real." That slight smile faltered, and she bit her lower lip, audibly drawing a long breath through her nostrils – almost a sniffle. "But knowing that you were just pretending, for my sake… that destroyed me." For a moment, she said nothing, the look in her eyes somehow conveying the crestfallen sentiment of her words. And then her demeanor changed, Kallen inhaling deeply, steadying herself for what she said next. "I can't lie to myself anymore, Lelouch. I won't." She shifted, settling her weight on his thighs, and leaned closer until only she filled his vision, her lips less than a finger's width away from his. "I love you." The gently whispered words seemed to hang in the air, as if given form by the warmth of her breath that intermingled with the lingering heat of their closeness.

At that moment, Lelouch wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms, to close the distance between their lips and know that softness of her once more, to stroke his fingers through her hair while drinking deep of the blue wells of her eyes and tell her that what they had shared _had_ been real, that he felt the same way about her – that he loved her. But as much as he ached for her, for her kiss, for her love, Lelouch forced himself to quell those feelings, reconstructing the façade of chilling indifference. He would not allow himself to make the same mistake again. He knew now what C.C. had meant in saying that the power of a king would make him lonely, and would embrace that truth here and now, for the sake of allowing Kallen to live her own life, rather than have fate step in and steal it away prematurely.

That was why Lelouch, at the last moment, turned his head away as she leaned in to kiss him, her lips lightly grazing the corner of his mouth. The touch fractured his already weakened resolve, but his voice was steady. "You can't, Kallen." Although he tried to keep the regret and longing out of his words, in the end he still sounded a bit wistful. "I'm sorry." For a long while, she didn't move, as if frozen in place by his murmured apology. And then her fingers released their hold on his hair, her arms sliding down and around him, holding him close as she pressed her cheek against the side of his neck. The floodgate that held back her tears was now released, and Lelouch could feel hot wetness on his skin as she muffled her sobs on his shoulder, her breaths coming in sharp, sudden gasps.

So near, the smell of her hair and skin was intoxicating, dizzying him to the point that he could almost slip away and lose himself in the cloying, heady scent of her; with his eyes now closed, the only anchor grounding him to reality was his grip on her bare waist, his hands seeming to have taken hold of her of their own accord. Knowing it would likely be the last embrace they shared, he temporarily let down his guard, focusing on fixing every detail in his mind, from the way her batting eyelashes brushed lightly over the sensitive skin on the side of his neck, below his ear, as she blinked away her tears, to the quivering tremble she gave whenever he exhaled, his breath dipping into the hollow where her collarbone swept up to her bare shoulder.

The time that passed seemed far too short when he finally felt her begin to move away, and he bit back his sigh, regaining his composure. The mask felt unbearably heavy, near suffocating. Her hands at his back moved to the front of his chest, her fingers balling into tight fists around the white material of his shirt. She pushed away from him, just far enough so she could sit back on his knees, her eyes downcast, refusing to meet his own, and her cheeks stained with the moisture of her tears. The long fall of hair framing the right side of her face was dark and matted, from where it had been pressed between her cheek and the curve of his neck.

The inflection in the voice that broke the silence was almost painfully weak, fragile; it was as though in that tone she had laid her soul bare before him, a soul infused with a thousand of its own hairline cracks, such that a single wrong word from him could shatter her sense of self irreparably. "Tell me, then," she whispered, drawing a breath as if to prepare herself, "…tell me that it meant nothing to you. That I mean nothing to you." Slowly did she raise her head, the expression in her glistening blue eyes seeming even more delicate and frangible than her quiet, quavering voice. "Say that I'm a silly girl for thinking there was ever anything between us." In a sudden burst of emotion, she banged her fists on his chest, but even that lacked any real strength. "Make me hate you, so I can finally forget about you!" No longer capable of meeting his gaze in the event that he speak the words and splinter her to pieces, Kallen pushed her face into his chest, clinging to him. She was crying again, but noiselessly, betrayed only by the wetness of the tears soaking through the thin fabric of his shirt.

But for some reason, Lelouch couldn't bring himself to lie to her; whenever he opened his mouth to speak, the words seemed to die in his throat. He knew that rationally, he should have spoken, a lie though it may be, and crushed her hopes; better to weather her hate and scorn than the guilt and sorrow over a death that would surely find her when he walked the path of destruction. Having made that mistake with Shirley weighed heavily enough on him already; he did not think he could bear the pain of losing Kallen as well.

A thought came to him – he could make her forget about her feelings for him, as he had done with Shirley. It would be as simple as using Jeremiah's Geass Canceller to remove his last Geass, then fixing her with the command to forget. To him, though, that seemed even greater an atrocity than the lie would have been. If to lie would be to shatter her heart to pieces, then to erase her memories would be the equivalent of cleaving out a part of her soul. It had been necessary with Shirley, but that didn't make it any less painful to Lelouch; that kind of pain, further compounded by the feelings he held for Kallen, made such a course of action out of the question. He was incapable of lying to her, nor would he take her memories. When presented with such a perfect opportunity to end everything between them, he just did not have the strength of will to go through with it. The mask fell, fracturing along the hundreds of fault lines she had made in his resolve.

Lelouch felt her body abruptly stiffen when he allowed his arms to encircle her, one holding her gently at the small of her back while the other cradled her shoulders. For a moment, she remained hesitant, as if questioning his silence, his protective embrace, almost fearing to believe him his intent. And then she relented, Kallen moving closer to let him better enfold her body, nestling her head in the curve of his neck where it met his shoulder. She relaxed, sinking into him, her hands clutching at the back of his shirt, and he could feel the tension drain out of her as she melted into his arms. Her breathing calmed, and he reveled in the scent of her, blanking his mind in a delirious, contented haze. When she spoke, her tone sounded as though a smile touched her lips. "You made a mistake, you know," she murmured breathily into his ear, rubbing her cheek along his own.

He responded in kind, his warm breath making her shiver with the intimacy of the whisper. "…And what's that?"

She leaned back, just far enough so she could look at his face. The corners of her mouth were slightly upturned, mirroring the lingering trace of the smile that shone in irises of sea blue, although they yet gleamed with moisture. His right hand lightly cupped her cheek, its thumb gently brushing away a tear that welled up in the corner of her eye. "Now that I know there's a chance," she said, smiling, "I'm not going to give up."

His own expression faltered somewhat, and Lelouch let the hand at her cheek drop to her shoulder, as if to stop her from moving any closer. "What I feel for you doesn't change the fact that we can't be together." Though he could not deny his feelings, he would do this much, at least. It was difficult to keep the sorrow out of his voice. "I can't let myself fall in love with you, Kallen, because..." he quieted, glancing away. "...I just couldn't live with myself if I lost you."

She stared at him, her brow furrowing. "So that's why you won't let me be close to you? You think that what happened to Shirley will happen to me?" Her voice carried an air of clear disapproval, complimenting the same sentiment in the narrowed blue eyes she fixed on his violet.

Still not meeting her eyes, his demeanor changed to one of sorrowful regret. "I let her get too involved. I could've said something, could've kept her from loving me – done something to end whatever there was between us." His hands dropped to her hips, as if to do exactly that with Kallen, but aside from holding her firmly, he didn't move. "If I had done what I should have, she'd still be alive." When his dark violet irises finally looked up into her clear blue, the expression behind them was one of grim resolve, despite the gloss of welling tears. "I won't make that mistake again," he said fiercely, "and that's why we can't – " She cut him off abruptly with a finger pressed to his lips.

"Don't you think that's a little… presumptuous of you, Lelouch?" He blinked, the look that flashed across his features somewhat indignant. He was doing this for her sake, after all – to save her. She cocked an eyebrow at him, her voice assuming a rather convincing lecturing tone despite the undeniable truth that the podium from which she lectured was, in fact, his lap. "I've been at this a lot longer than you have. I know what kinds of dangers we face, and the risks we have to take. Every time I pilot my Guren, I realize that at any moment, I might be killed." Both of her hands held onto the sides of his neck, keeping him firmly in place, as her thumbs stroked his earlobes. "But I go out and fight anyway because I believe that our cause is worth the risk." Her expression softened, and she shared a small, warm smile with him, the captivating blue pools of her eyes holding him transfixed. "I believe that _we_ are worth that risk."

He began to shake his head, but her hands, fixed firmly at the back of his neck, made the movement minimal. In the silence, his intense deep purple gaze was evenly matched by her own determined azure blue. She waited, saying nothing, and at last he relented, a soft sigh escaping his lips before he spoke. "It's not that simple–" The finger, suddenly at his lips, interrupted him.

"It is that simple, but you're just trying to make it more complicated than it actually is." Adjusting herself on top of him, she moved closer, straddling the very tops of his thighs; he lifted an eyebrow, and she offered a somewhat sly, lop-sided smile in return. The expression softened into sincerity, and her words were solemn when next she spoke. "I love you, Lelouch," she murmured quietly, her face only inches away from his, Kallen somehow managing to keep the embarrassed blush from her voice even if color still bloomed on her cheeks, "and you feel… something… for me, right?" Waiting, she stared at him, her lower lip quivering in uneasy anticipation.

"Yes, but –" Again, the finger cut him off. He frowned. She had to stop doing that. He noticed the corners of her mouth upturning in amusement at his disconcertion.

"Then that's all that matters." Her eyes became serious, looking intently into his own. "Lelouch, I don't know what will happen tomorrow, or in the future," she said quietly, "but I do know it's foolish to throw away something real, just because you're afraid of what _might_ happen." Slowly, he conceded the point with a short nod. Satisfied, she smiled again, but the character in that smile was different – almost sultry. Leaning forward until only her slim finger separated their lips, she spoke in a quiet, heated whisper, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief as they gazed into his. "Now," she began, lowering the offensive finger and letting her hand caress the contours of his chest, "are you going to kiss me, or aren't–" It was his turn to interrupt as he stole both her words and her breath, the hand that had been at her shoulder now slipping to the back of her neck, crushing her to him in a fierce, passionate kiss. She responded just as hotly, her lips parting and her tongue warm and insistent as it reacquainted itself with his.

They broke the kiss in sudden need of air, panting hard as their faces remained close. Her eyes regarded the top of his shirt, Kallen using nimble fingers to intently unfasten the buttons at his throat, the cast of her features smoky with desire. When he stilled her hands with his, she, perplexed, glanced up, the unspoken question furrowing her brow. "Before we go any further," he murmured softly, almost regretfully, "there's something I need to say." She arched an eyebrow, waiting. "It's about C.C."

To his surprise, she laughed, her mirth dying down only when she settled her cheek on his shoulder, and even then, traces of that amusement lingered in the mocking admonition with which she addressed him. "Lelouch, sometimes you have no sense of tact when it comes to things like this..." she trailed off, kissing his collarbone to soften the reprimand, "…talking about another girl when I'm right here in front of you." His fingers began to smooth her hair, despite how much the willful spikes objected. She seemed contented by the touch, her voice gentle when she asked, "She's in love with you, isn't she?"

His hand paused in mid-stroke, his voice quiet. "As much as she's loathe to admit it, I think so." Slipping to the back of her neck, his thumb lightly caressed the soft skin behind her ear. "But how did you…?"

She laughed again, the sound light and lilting, partly because of his naïvete and also in response to the teasing touch on the high side of her neck. "I can tell by the way she looks at you – isn't it obvious?" Her demeanor changed abruptly, and suddenly serious, she leaned back to stare at him, blue eyes intent, matching the grave tone in her voice. "And you feel something for her, too?"

He swallowed, his reply coming slowly as he searched for words. "Well – yes, but – it's hard to explain." It seemed as if his throat had gone suddenly dry. "She's important to me, and I care about her, but if there's more than that… I don't really know." Wetting parched lips, Lelouch looked down, avoiding her eyes.

"The way you don't know how you feel about me?" Upon glancing back at her, he saw that her own gaze was downcast, something of a pout forming in the shape of her mouth. He cupped her cheek in his palm, gently easing her face upward until her eyes met his, and as they did, he offered her a small, abashed smile.

"It's not the same, Kallen." Stricken with an unexpected bout of shyness, Lelouch took a sudden, keen interest in the tapering sweep of red hair that curtained the side of her face, stroking the silken lock between two fingers. "I… know… what I feel for you," he said at last, with some difficulty, color staining his cheeks. Despite not facing her directly, he could see the unspoken question in the cast of her features, feel it in the tense expectation that stilled her breathing, prompting him to slowly gaze back into her azure blue eyes. "Though you asked me to say it…" he managed in a voice that surprised him with its steadiness, Lelouch still pausing to lick his lips before finishing in a quiet murmur, "… I meant what I said."

The apprehension in her features vanished with his quiet confession, her expression replaced by pure, radiant happiness; she smiled widely, girlishly, and her eyes gleamed like twin, sapphire gems, reflecting the light. Embracing him tightly, Lelouch could feel the tears of joy rolling from the corners of her eyes and wetting his skin as she pressed the side of her cheek to his. "Oh, Lelouch," she squeaked giddily, the emotion in her voice breathlessly exuberant, "you don't know how much I hoped…" Apparently choosing not to finish the sentence, she instead rained kisses on the side of his neck as he stroked the smooth skin of her lower back, fingers slipping tentatively under the loose layers of her clothing.

It was… rapturous, that feeling when she brought her mouth to his ear, each breath a hot, tickling prelude of pleasure sending shivers down his spine. She asked a single, murmured question, her voice a husky purr. "Carry me to bed…?" Warm and wet, her tongue punctuated the request, shamelessly exploring the curves and hollows of his inner ear. Lelouch found himself incapable of movement, much less speech; the sensation of her tongue in his ear essayed shockwaves where there had once been shivers, paralyzing the left half of his body with gripping, intense pleasure. It seemed to radiate throughout him, down his neck and arm to his fingertips, then throughout his chest and legs to his toes; when she at last withdrew, he shuddered visibly, gasping hard, as though only now remembering to breathe.

It was only when she pushed back, rising up on her knees on top of him, did the meaning of her request register in his mind. Carefully did she rearrange herself, her hands at his shoulders keeping her steady as she shifted her knees over to his right, enabling her to sit side-saddle on his lap. Adjusting her hold on him, she wrapped one arm around his shoulders while the hand of the other clutched the front of his shirt. Her stocking-clad legs drew up, bent at the knee, a coquettish smile revealing that she clearly expected to be princess-carried to the bedroom. When he didn't move, she glanced down. "Don't make me say it again," she mumbled, color flaring in her cheeks.

Lelouch gave her a playful smirk as he slipped one arm around her waist while the other curved beneath her thighs to hold her at the back of her knees. "I'll try not to drop you," he confided in a mock-conspiratorial voice, chuckling when a look of concern flashed across her features. Allowing her no time to reconsider, he collected her firmly in his arms, leaning forward with her and using her weight to get his legs under him, if unsteadily. He teetered for dramatic effect, and she laughed, using his imbalance as an excuse to hold onto him more tightly. Having had to carry Nunnally in such a way often before, he was able to manage Kallen well enough; she was somewhat heavier, of course, so by the time he brought her into the bedroom, after some impressive maneuvering to open the door, he was out of breath.

"Not bad, Lelouch," she murmured as he laid her down on the edge of the bed, and she added, with a smile, "…now do that every day and you'll definitely get stronger." She laughed again upon seeing his frown, Kallen sitting up and taking him by the front of his shirt, forcing him to take a seat on the bed. "Now you relax... let me do the work." The lewd words were made positively indecent as she slowly licked her lips, Kallen rising to her feet, though her hands remained on his chest.

He opened his mouth, apparently about to ask just what she had meant by that, but she quieted him with a kiss, hot and insistent, driving all other thoughts from his mind but her. Still dazed even after she broke that intimate connection, Lelouch complied wordlessly as her fingers worked loose the buttons of his shirt, lifting his arms up to let her take it off of him. Quite satisfied with the bare skin thereby exposed, Kallen leaned down, kissing and licking his chest, each touch of her warm tongue eliciting a pleasured gasp from his throat.

Regaining himself despite her teasing, Lelouch slid one hand to cup her chin, tilting up her face so he could kiss her; the other tugged pointedly at the edge of her top. "You should do something about these," he murmured before taking her lower lip into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on it sensually.

Once she had reclaimed her lip in another kiss, Kallen reluctantly straightened, backing away a few steps. At seeing him watching her, she reddened, looking away, her fingers fumbling to undo the single button that held the blouse closed at mid-chest. The loose, black straps of the garment slipped off her shoulders, and she let it fall to floor behind her. It left her upper body covered only by a sheer, light pink tube top undershirt that barely clung to the curves of her breasts and hid little else.

His eyes traced the lines of her body and Kallen tried her best to ignore the feeling as she focused on undoing the button at the front of the grey-trimmed black shorts she wore – part of her Black Knight's uniform. Working it free, she pulled down the zipper and carefully edged the shorts down over her hips. He watched, intrigued, as her pink panties came bit by bit into view; they were opaque satin at the front and crotch, but paneled with lace at the sides. It pleased him that despite the brusque, tough exterior, the attitude of a soldier she put out for everyone else, she was still wonderfully feminine underneath.

Slipping the shorts over her upper thighs and her pink leggings, Kallen let gravity take them the rest of the way, pooling black and gray fabric around her slender ankles. Demurely, she stepped clear of them, and when she finally had the courage to look up at him, her cheeks burned with embarrassment. "These, too?" she asked hesitantly, plucking at the pink tights with her thumb and forefinger. He nodded, his slight smile betrayed by the heat in his gaze as he took in the shape of her. She was a truly beautiful young woman, fine both of face and figure, her light peach skin unmarred, and her body slender but at the same time deliciously lush and ample. Bent over as she was, Lelouch couldn't decide what he liked more – the slopes of her cleavage, full breasts pendant under their weight, straining against the flimsy undershirt, or the slim lines of legs that seemed impossibly long, her bared skin smooth and inviting as she peeled off her tights. Ultimately he decided to look at both, alternating often between them.

The leggings now strewn on the floor, Kallen straightened, fleetingly meeting his gaze. "Don't stare like that," she admonished with a frown, blushing again upon seeing the look of intent hunger in his eyes. Though her tone was chiding, the cast of her eyes suggested that she was quite pleased by the voracity with which he looked upon her – of being the cause of that building desire. At his crooked finger, she timidly stepped forward, her ears burning at the way he beckoned her, and moreover, at the knowledge that she would be completely unable to resist the pull of even so simple a gesture. Seated as he was, she stopped to stand between his slightly parted legs, the outer sides of her knees touching the insides of his. She couldn't meet his eyes, and as if betraying her nervousness, her arms crossed unconsciously beneath her breasts, Kallen rubbing her forearms with her hands.

He had seen her naked, of course, and had slept with her not a week past, but for some reason, the sight of her in little else than her underwear excited him even more than he had been before, his pulse quickening as his breath caught in his throat. It seemed almost as if he were looking upon her for the first time, as if this were somehow different from the intimate moment he had shared with her in the past. And perhaps in a way it was the first time, having only moments ago confessed his love for her – having been honest about his feelings to both her and himself. She seemed to feel it too, in the way that her eyes shyly glanced to his, only to look away, Kallen biting her lip and blushing hotly, waiting for him.

Slowly did he reach out, letting his hands tentatively rest on her outer thighs, just above the knee. She shivered even with so light a touch, and he allowed her a few moments to accustom herself with the contact before sliding them up in lingering exploration of her skin. He caressed her outer thighs, up to the curve of her hip, fingers playing lightly on the lacy satin panels of her underwear, then to her slim waist, thumbs rubbing the smooth flat of her stomach. When he came across her folded arms, he slid his hands to hold her firmly above the elbow, drawing her forward and down until his lips were close to hers. "You're lovely." The compliment made the color in her cheeks all the more effusive, and when she smiled, he closed the distance and kissed her.

It was a timid touch at first, but gradually she opened herself to him, an overwhelming need for him readily displacing any bashful shyness on her part. He wanted her – wanted to pull her on top of him, to roll with her on the bed and pin her beneath his weight, to steal her breath with his kisses until she begged for air, to sink into her flesh and revel in the lush heat of her body – but her hands, firm at his shoulders, kept her away. So instead, his fingers slipped to the back of her neck, pressing her lips to his, as his other hand slid to her chest, cupping a soft breast through the sheer pink of her undershirt, Lelouch trying to entice her with his touch, to persuade her into sweet surrender.

Unexpectedly she broke the kiss, her panting breath warm upon his face as she stared into his eyes. One of her hands was planted on his chest, maintaining the distance between them, while the other took his wrist, returning his hand to his side. "No, Lelouch." He blinked, at a loss for words – surely she couldn't be refusing him now. As if reading his thoughts, she gave a slight shake of her head, underscoring her willingness by bringing her free hand to the front of his trousers, gently stroking his growing hardness through the layer of separating cloth. Color rose in her cheeks, and she bit her lip, glancing back to his eyes. Though her look was sultry, there was a faint thread of nervousness in her voice when she whispered, "Please… let me… attend to you…" Her stare was intense, erotically forward, and she deliberately licked her lips, both of her hands now working to unbutton and unzip the offending trousers.

Lelouch swallowed, but accommodated her wordlessly, lifting his hips so she could pull off his pants and briefs; they joined her clothes on the floor. Gracefully she knelt between his spread knees, her hands stroking his naked thighs before allowing her elbows to hang off to either side, Kallen finding a comfortable spot between his legs. Her blue eyes looked hesitantly up at him, watching his reaction, when she traced her fingertips up and down the length of his shaft in a light, teasing touch. She seemed pleased by the moans that welled up in him, and using her other hand, she gently cupped his sack, her fingers fondling him with the same feathery strokes. Although her touch was light, it didn't take long for him to reach full, throbbing hardness, his eyes sliding closed, shutting out everything except the sensuous feel of her playful fingers.

As taken as he was by the pleasure of her hands, Lelouch barely noticed her shifting closer, the softness of her breasts pressing against his inner thighs through the confines of her filmy pink top. His moan at feeling her take the base of him in her hand was followed quickly by a sharp gasp of unexpected pleasure when she engulfed him with her mouth, her lips encircling the head, just past its ridge. Though this was her first time performing such an act, her lack of experience was counterbalanced by her ardent willingness to please him, her warm tongue avidly exploring the hard contours and curves that she held in her mouth.

Additionally, she was quite a fast learner; she quickly discovered how fluttering the blade of her tongue along the underside of his shaft could summon a long moan from inside him, or how she could make his breath catch in his throat when she formed her tongue into a point and teased the slit at the tip of the head. Or how he would draw a quick gasp through clenched teeth when her own teeth caught the ridge of his glans; perhaps she would refrain from using her teeth too forwardly.

His fingers tangled in her hair, encouraging her to take him deeper into her mouth. She complied, her lips moving along his manhood and working their way further downward with every stroke. The thumb and forefinger of her right hand tugged at the root of him as her left still cupped the flesh below. When she felt him reach the back of her throat, she gagged involuntarily, withdrawing completely and giving a small cough. "Are you all right?" he murmured, a look of concern and faint apology flicking across his features. She gave him a weak smile, but nodded.

"It's too big – I can't fit it all in." She blushed at the vulgarity of her own words, but returned to her task, now skimming a fist over his slickened member while letting her tongue slip out of her mouth to twirl in circles around its head. "Hey, Lelouch," she murmured, her eyes sparkling with a sudden idea as she looked up at him, "…why don't you come a little closer to me?" As if to urge him to move toward the edge of the bed, she let go of him, her mouth opening to permit her tongue to slide out. She didn't take him inside her again – instead, she hovered less than an inch away, her breath warm on his moist skin, inviting him to slide closer to feel the pleasure of her mouth anew.

When he moved, she moved with him, maintaining that short distance until she seemed satisfied with his position on the edge of the bed; as a reward, then, she gave him what he wanted, taking his manhood in her mouth as deep as it would go, Kallen doing her best to suppress the choking reflex as it met the back of her throat. Her mouth felt wetter, slicker somehow, and after she withdrew, tongue caressing the underside of his shaft in the motion, he glistened with her saliva.

"What are you…?" he asked in a trailed off question as he watched her rise up on her knees, her hands slipping beneath the tight pink tube top to free her ample breasts. She smiled suggestively, that look on her utterly wicked, especially after she quite pointedly tweaked her dark pink nipples into hardness.

"I thought guys liked this kind of thing," she murmured in reply, leaning forward into his lap, her breasts held cupped in her hands. He could only moan in response upon feeling her smooth cleavage enveloping him, Kallen using her fingers to trap him within the confines of that supple, yielding flesh. Using her thighs to move and her elbows on his legs to steady herself, she slid her cupped breasts up and down the length of his hardness in smooth, deliberate strokes. "Does it feel good, Lelouch? My breasts around your…" she bit her lip, blushing, looking down only to see the head of him rise up from between her ample breasts on every down-stroke.

He drew a sharp gasp in response, his hand working into her silken, dark red hair. The sensation of her tantalizingly soft yet deliciously firm flesh enfolding him was pleasure enough, but the way she moved around him, letting his saliva-slickened shaft push through the yielding cushion of her cleavage, was almost too much for him to bear. "If you keep doing that," he managed to say between uneven breaths, "I won't be able to hold on…."

She gave him a coy smile, her sea blue eyes gleaming up at him. Instead of slowing down, she increased the pace of her movements, her own breathing coming in soft pants. "Don't hold back," she whispered urgently, the tip of her tongue snaking down to lick the head of his manhood pointedly as she murmured, "…I want to taste you."

The intent gleam of her eyes and the lascivious nature of her words proved too much for Lelouch, driving him over the edge of all restraint, his fingers tightening in her hair. Responding to that sense of urgency, Kallen forced a final down-stroke, the tip of him emerging from between her tightly squeezed breasts. Her lips parted, pink tongue scalloping out, as the first pulsing shot of his seed landed on its blade; she wasted no time, engulfing him with the warm wetness of her mouth while he jerked within that lewdly succulent union. Her body shifted, allowing her breasts to fall to his inner thighs as they made room for her hands, the fingers of one wrapping around his shaft and milking him of his climax as the other squeezed and fondled his balls.

Lelouch groaned in pleasure, his hands in her hair holding her head in place as his essence pumped forth into her waiting, eager mouth. Unable to move as she was, she contented herself instead by massaging him with her tongue, the insistent point of it gathering the last dregs of his seed and drawing them to the back of her throat. He felt her swallow.

When he had collected himself enough to loosen his grip on her hair, she smiled hotly up at him, bestowing a long, lingering lick on the underside of his manhood. His words came with difficulty, his breathing still ragged in the lingering aftermath of his pleasure. "Kallen… that was… incredible…." He let his hand caress the side of her face, and she smiled again, this time somewhat shyly.

"I'm glad," she murmured, rubbing her soft cheek against the side of his shaft, "…that I can please you." Her blue eyes regarded him hotly through thick lashes. Overwhelmed by startling, undeniable emotion for her, Lelouch lifted her up with hands beneath her arms and drew her forward for a kiss; she followed quite contentedly, straddling his lap with her legs on either side of his, her arms wrapping tightly about his bared chest. His own arms holding her just as tightly, he let himself fall back onto the surface of the bed; she squealed as she fell with him, pressing her weight atop of him, her bared flesh hot silk on his skin. Twisting with her a bit, he was able to maneuver her onto her side, and after some adjustments they were lying on the bed properly, heads resting on the same pillow, as close as they were. It would have been a simple task had she not insisted on kissing and caressing him throughout; having wanted to feel her and return her kisses just as much, he supposed she couldn't be blamed for the delay.

She broke off the kiss when her fingers lightly encircled his shaft, he now only semi-erect in the aftermath of his climax. "Do you need a little time, to recover?" she asked in a soft murmur, kissing his collarbone. Her teeth nipped his skin lightly, suggestively. "If you like," she said in a tone of feigned timidity, "I can use my mouth again…." That made him chuckle, and to silence her, he slid his hand, fingers splayed, down the front of her body, across her taut stomach and lower belly, to the lips of her womanhood, teasing her swollen lips through the thin satin of her panties.

A long shudder ran through her body when he touched her, and she gasped, her legs closing together involuntarily, trapping his warm fingers in the moist cradle between her thighs. "I'll use mine, too," he murmured, his violet eyes gleaming as his fingers sought the hard bead of flesh that he knew would drive her wild.

The comment was lost on her, Kallen finding herself incapable of forming coherent thought as his insistent fingers found their mark. Her pent-up arousal could no longer be denied, agonizingly accrued both from being so close to his naked flesh, and from doing those lewd favors for him that still made her blush with the memory. His fingers now turned the key to her release, and she convulsed, her hand tightly gripping his wrist, blue eyes going wide all around as she cried out desperately, consumed by the sudden, jarring totality of the climax that coursed through her, so gratifying after such unbearable deprivation.

Panting in the wake of her orgasm, Kallen pressed her forehead to his chest, her body still shaking as echoing bliss radiated throughout her. With one arm wrapped around her shoulder, the hand of the other still between her legs, Lelouch held her closer, content to let her catch her breath as he smelled the sweet scent of her hair.

After her breathing had evened, she suddenly moved back, looking up at him with blue eyes wide, blood rushing to her cheeks, as if just now registering what he had said. "That's so embarrassing," she mumbled under her breath, glancing back down to his chest and biting her lip. To emphasize his intent, he slipped his hand under the front of her panties, discovering to his pleased surprise that her skin was smooth and bare; when his middle finger found the hood of her clit, she squeaked, her body seizing sharply against her will. "Mean…" she muttered, an adorable, sulking pout shaping the line of her mouth. When he chuckling softly, Lelouch kissed away the look of abashed indignation that flashed on features before she had a chance to speak. He deepened the kiss, his tongue pushing past her slightly parted lips and sliding along her own, as his hand edged down the lace of her panties, allowing him to curve two fingers inside her. The kiss coupled with the sweet penetration of his hand left her breathless and regretful when he ended both, eyes gleaming like polished amethyst in the dim light.

"Take these off," he murmured, tugging one side of her pink panties down over the curve of her hip, "…then turn around." Reluctantly, he moved slightly away to give her room. He lay flat on the bed now, his head turned to watch her as she slipped off her underwear, blushing all the while. She did as she was asked, however, sitting up and pausing only to strip off the pink tube top that had bunched beneath her underarms, before tentatively arranging herself on top of him. Her knees were carefully positioned to either side of his head, Kallen spreading her legs a bit to accommodate him; her upper body was lowered, she resting her weight on her elbows, beside his hips. Her breasts were soft, pressed firmly on top of his stomach, and he felt her taking the growing hardness of him in her hand.

Lelouch wasted no time, curling his arms around her thighs and briefly squeezing the firm flesh of her buttocks. His fingers slid down the lush curve of them, to the point where they met her upper thighs; she moaned at his teasing touches, wiggling her hips in obscene invitation. He granted her what she ached for, using his fingertips to spread wide the swollen pink folds of her sex, glistening wet in the heat of her passion. His tongue slid out, tasting her arousal slickened flesh, and she gasped audibly, rewarding him with the pleasure of her own mouth around his hardening shaft.

It was almost like a game, a duel of sorts – a kind of sensual swordplay using tongues and teeth and lips and hands instead of fencing foils. Every action he performed on her, she returned in kind, as best she could. If he slid his tongue inside her, shaping it to a point and probing deep, she countered by taking him in her mouth until she could go no further, her tongue massaging his shaft. When his fingers pulled back the hood of her clit, exposing that swollen nub to his tongue and teeth, she would focus her attention on the head of his manhood, sucking hard with her lips and teasing his slit with the intent tip of her tongue, exploring him. If he pushed his fingers inside her, curling and extending, seeking the sensitive bundle of nerves near the front of her sex, she replied by skimming both fists up and down the slippery length of him, and when he sucked on her clit while still fingering her, she would smoothly suck one of his balls into her mouth, continuing to stroke him with one hand.

Soon, the nature of the game changed, Kallen taking the initiative, using that wordless code of communication to tell him what she wanted. He obliged her willingly, and in short order she was completely beside herself in pleasure, so lost in bliss that she could do little else than pump her fist around his shaft. Her climax came swiftly, Kallen rearing back and crying out in satisfaction, propping herself up with her hands on the bed and pressing her throbbing sex down onto his waiting, open mouth. His tongue lapped up her juices, driving inside her, as she ground herself on him, shuddering in wordless ecstasy, her entire body taut in the powerful sensation that held her. After her orgasm had subsided, she collapsed on top of him, a shuddering heap of hot, quivering flesh. Her cheek pressed against the top of his thigh, she panted raggedly, breathing quick and warm on his skin as she regained her senses.

"Please…" came her soft whisper, barely audible above his own unsteady pants, "…I want you inside me." Her hand found him hard and ready, still moist in her saliva, though with her in such a state of arousal, additional wetness was likely unnecessary. Lelouch released his hold on her thighs, and carefully, she moved, wandering down his body and coming to kneel above his lap, her slim back to him. His hands took hold of her waist, steadying her when she pushed up on her knees, her fingers spreading herself open for him while her other hand positioned him beneath her, angled toward the tight entrance of her sex. As she lowered herself down onto his manhood, she turned her head, looking hotly back at him out of the corner of one eye, the look near obscured by the fall of her red hair along the side of her face. Her mouth was half open, Kallen panting in the unfettered pleasure of at last having what she craved.

The wet, velvet lips of her womanhood swallowed him, inching along the length of his shaft, surrounding him in tight, pulsing heat. "Kallen," he moaned, squeezing her waist as she took the entirety of him inside her, her buttocks a soft cushion on the front of his hips. He reveled in the feel of her – the way her muscles tightened, gripping and releasing him in quivering waves of sensation, the impossible slickness of her inner folds, so smooth as to make silk seem rough by comparison, and the all-encompassing heat of her, richly intoxicating in its effusiveness.

Her hands on his thighs, supporting her, she began to move, using her knees to rock forward and back on top of his manhood. She used a pace that was slow and deliberate, Kallen clearly not wishing to rush this pleasure. Lelouch took in the sight of her, relishing the fine, intimate details as he watched her ride him: the curve of her spine as she arched her body backward, the sound of her long breaths becoming staggered when she sunk back onto the front of his hips, the sight of her dark red hair, forelocks tickling her skin, when she turned to look at him heatedly over her shoulder, the feeling of her inner folds pulling outward when she withdrew, stretching to retain him with every up stroke. He wanted her – wanted to thrust into her, to surrender to his boundless need for her, to drive her over the edge of sensation until she, too, lost herself in the mindless euphoric haze of sexual delirium.

Abruptly he sat up, his hands slipping to the front of her body and cupping her full breasts, her flesh soft and yielding as he squeezed them. She moaned at the sudden contact, pressing the line of her back into his chest, her hips still gyrating on top of his own. His fingers tweaked already hard nipples, twisting and pinching them, eliciting gasps of pained pleasure. She had said she liked it rough. In his overpowering hunger for her, he would give her what she wanted.

Kallen gasped in surprise when he fell back onto the bed, taking her down with him, his hands still fondling her breasts. As she had been kneeling before, her legs now straightened, rubbing the length of his, but to her chagrin, she found that in this position she couldn't do much more than squirm on top of him. "Please…!" she cried out in a desperate whimper, grinding her buttocks enticingly on the front of his hips. He pinched her nipple, causing her breath to catch at the sharp, sudden pain. Then she felt him begin to move, and she had to remember to breathe.

Her heels dug into the surface of the bed, and with her shoulders finding purchase against his chest, she was able to arch her back, lifting her hips and giving him space to thrust. He was like a piston beneath her, rhythmically forcing the length of his manhood inside her at an upward angle, the sound of slapping flesh erotically indecent when he rammed up against her buttocks from beneath. From this position, he wasn't able to enter her too deeply, but that didn't much matter – it was the angle of attack that drove her wild with pleasure. From this position, the head of him could rub against that tight cluster of nerves which sent shuddering shocks of pure pleasure throughout her body whenever it was touched; with the way he was pumping in rough, wild abandon, it felt almost as if she was being split apart by his sword, and the epicenter was at that single, gratifying spot which he so vehemently attacked.

She couldn't endure it – it was too much, that pleasure was far more than she could bear, and still retain her sanity. "Wait," she said breathlessly, her arm bending to reach behind her, hand fixing in the hair behind his head, "Lelouch, I…." The words were overpowered by her sudden, shuddering moan as his fingers pinched the hardness of her throbbing, exposed clit, pushing her over the brink of her release. Her back arched, body taut, hips high in the air, and he followed, staying with her as her flesh convulsed in sweet, tight ripples around his manhood. He could feel the warmth and wetness of her climax engulfing him and that alone threatened to send him, too, into orgasm, but somehow he restrained his release, distracting himself by trying to control his erratic breathing.

When it had passed, she collapsed back atop of him, panting hotly to catch her breath. "Please," she managed, shifting her hips, "I want…." Her words cut off as he obliged, his finger between her legs tracing hard circles around the hood of her clit, teasing her. She squirmed, trying to get away from that insistent touch, until her hand clutched his wrist, pulling it away. "No, not that," she said breathlessly, "I want to… look at you, when I come…." She turned her head away, her cheeks blooming with crimson.

Lelouch blushed too, ashamed at his own actions. He had let himself be consumed by his want of her, of her body, as he had the first night he had slept with her. Yet she was so much more than that, and he had been blind to it, taken as he had been by rampant desire. "Of course, Kallen," he said quietly, his face still red with shame. "I'm sorry… I let myself get carried away." He moved a bit, lifting her up and easing her to the surface of the bed. He turned on his side, facing her, and she did the same, although she didn't yet meet his eyes.

"It's all right," she murmured, her glance faintly coquettish as she looked briefly up at him. "It felt… amazing." She reddened, biting her lip, and he gave her a slight smile, still faintly apologetic, his hands taking up hers and squeezing gently. "Maybe this time," she began hesitantly, the color in her cheeks flaring in embarrassment, "you can do it slow, and deep…?" She looked anywhere but at him.

He kissed her forehead, that smile still curved in the corner of his mouth. "For you, Kallen, anything." Slowly, she returned his small smile, gazing up at him, and he craned his neck downward to kiss her lightly, lingeringly. While still maintaining the kiss, he moved closer, gently pressing her shoulders to lie flat on the bed as he positioned himself above her, her thighs parting to accept him. Drawing back, his eyes looked intently down into her sea blue, and after slipping his forearms beneath her shoulders, he pulled her into another kiss, slow and lingering, one which she returned just as achingly.

When he felt her hands stroking the front of his bared chest, working their way downward, Lelouch ended the kiss, opening his eyes and looking into hers. "Whenever you're ready," he whispered softly, and she replied with a minute nod. Only the faintest stain of crimson blush colored her cheeks as she took his hardness in one hand, guiding the head of him at her entrance while her other spread herself wide and open with two fingers.

"Please…" she murmured, her sparkling sapphire eyes never leaving his dark amethyst, despite the color reaching full bloom in her complexion suggesting she was want to do otherwise. He didn't move yet, Lelouch remaining perfectly still as he stared back into her eyes, his gaze tender and unwavering.

His words were a warm caress on her face as he spoke, his lips a finger's width away from hers. "Kallen," he murmured, the care and affection with which he said her name sending shivers down her body, "I love you." She smiled radiantly, tears rolling unnoticed from the corners of her eyes as she closed the distance to kiss him. When her tongue met his, he slid the length of him inside her, moving slow and deep, just as she had requested.

"Oh, Lelouch," she whimpered with a breathy moan, breaking the kiss to look up at him, "I love you so much." When she brought her hand up, cupping his face, he pressed his cheek against it, smiling, the heat in his eyes mirrored by the look in her own, expressing an open, honest desire, an unashamed passion that ran far deeper than base, bodily lust.

And for a time, as they made love, nothing existed for either of them except for the other. Connected in both spirit and flesh, they reveled in the sweet satisfaction of sharing the same breath, the same heartbeat, two individuals who had been alone in the world, now, at long last, becoming one. The castaway prince had found his princess.

End Chapter 3


	4. Contract

Standard Disclaimer: Code Geass and its characters are not my property, etc. If you're offended by explicit, mature themes, then read on and let me try to change your mind. 18+ please.

Timeline Note: This chapter picks up right where Ch3 left off, thereby (briskly) including the remainder of R2, Episode 14, and additionally, the material from Episode 15.

Author's Note: As you can tell from the title, this will be a primarily C.C.-oriented chapter. Near the end, I skipped some canon scenes, while writing out the ones I felt were important to this story - basically, there's going to be a bit of "jumping around" near the end of this one, so you've been forewarned.

* * *

**The Castaway Prince – A Code Geass Lemon Fanfiction by ClockMaker411**

Chapter 4 – Contract

Basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, Lelouch felt completely content as he lay in bed, Kallen tucked into the side of his body, her head resting on his shoulder. Here in his sleeping quarters, shut off from the rest of the world, it seemed that his greatest concern was whether the sputtering light in the recessed panel above would at last die out, plunging the room into darkness. He wasn't overly worried – in truth, he half looked forward to it – to "finding his way in the dark", with Kallen.

As if responding to his thoughts, she stirred beside him, her arm slipping around his chest to cling closer even in sleep. That made him glance down, violet eyes tracing over her delicate features made hauntingly beautiful in the flickering shadows cast by the dimming lamp above. The effect was only slightly spoiled as a swath of red fell across her face, curling just beneath her nose to tickle her nostrils. She sniffed, and when that did not have the desired effect, wrinkled her nose. One of his slender fingers obliged her, gently lifting the stray lock of hair and rearranging it to lie behind her ear. Before he could withdraw his hand, her own enclosed his wrist, guiding him to press his palm against her cheek.

A slight smile curved in the line of her mouth as her eyelids slid partway open, deep blue irises regarding him through a curtain of thick lashes. "Sorry," he murmured, rubbing the corner of her jaw lightly with his fingertips, "I didn't mean to wake you." She kissed the heel of his hand, the gesture of affection accompanied by warmth lingering in her sea blue eyes as they gazed up at him.

"It's all right," she replied, releasing her hold on him to stifle a half-yawn before allowing her arm to its rightful place around his chest. "How long was I asleep?" Her arched eyebrows drew down.

He cupped her chin, the backs of his fingers stroking the underside of her throat in soft, tickling touches. She smiled, squirming a bit and snuggling closer. "A little under an hour. It's already midmorning." The hand now curving around to the back of her neck, Lelouch let the edge of his thumb twirl circles in the fine hairs just behind her earlobe.

Kallen responded with a contented purr, her eyes drifting closed once more. "Then it's still too early." She lifted her head a bit, getting more comfortable, and then settled her cheek on his shoulder, clearly intent on falling back asleep on top of him. He chuckled lightly.

"For you, perhaps, but I need to get up. There are… a few things that need seeing to before tomorrow." There was the briefing with Diethard, to assess the progress of both assimilating the separate provinces of the Chinese Federation into his fold, as well as the negotiations with the E.U., whom he needed to win to his side. And then, of course, he had to attend to the issue of Rolo, which he dared not leave to anyone else. The thought of his younger brother – no, the assassin of the Order, darkened his mood. Lelouch tried to force it out of his mind, choosing instead to look back down at Kallen, and he soon found that his grim demeanor was at best difficult to maintain as he watched her.

Though her eyes remained closed, she pouted a bit at his response, a slender leg hooking over his beneath the bed sheet and latching on quite securely, as if to say exactly what she thought of that. He narrowed his eyes in mock consternation, but the effect was lost on her. "You can sleep here, if you're still tired."

She stared up at him then, the pout that had shaped her mouth now affecting the sentiment in her eyes so that they appeared like nothing so much as wide blue wells glistening wetly in the wavering light. "Can't you stay with me for just a little longer?" Lelouch was baffled – not by her request, but by finding that he just couldn't resist that delicately pleading look, and so he offered her a tight smile and a slight nod, a flicker of troubled amusement passing across his features. He would have to guard against such looks in the future, or else he would be hard-pressed to ever refuse her. This time, he supposed, it seemed harmless enough. She kissed his collarbone in quiet gratitude and relaxed back along his chest.

He was silent for a time, simply enjoying the comforting presence of having her so close to him. The arm encircling her now slid downward, allowing a palm to rest in the narrow of her waist, just above the hip. His other hand moved up from the nape of her neck, Lelouch slowly running his fingers through her dark red hair as he cradled her head into the arch of his throat. The feel of her body, a tantalizing combination of soft curves and smooth muscle, excited him with its sensual promise – from the yielding warmth of her breasts, squeezed lushly to his ribs, to the silken slimness of her limbs, tangled with his own. It must have been his imagination, but he thought he could feel the hot wetness between her legs rubbing the side of his thigh. He swallowed, finding his throat suddenly parched, and forced his mind elsewhere in an attempt to curb the stirring in his loins.

A thought came to him then, and when he spoke, his words were quiet, tentative. "Kallen… what I said earlier…." His lips pursed, as if he didn't quite know how to phrase the question.

"You mean about C.C…?" she asked in an equally quiet, careful tone. He blinked, surprised that she had guessed his line of thinking, and craned his head away a bit so he could regard her. She hadn't moved, nor had she opened her eyes.

Lelouch cleared his throat. "Yes, about that." A deep furrow creased his forehead as he drew down his brows, considering her carefully, although her features betrayed nothing. "You are… all right, with that?" Try as he might, he could not quite keep the incredulity out of his voice.

She didn't answer right away, but instead, climbed partway atop his chest, using her forearms to support her as she raised her upper body to look at him directly. And it was a very direct look that she gave him, but not one of anger, as he had expected, but rather of intense resolve. "If you decide that you love her," she began in a measured tone, "…will that change the way you feel about me…?" By the time she had finished, a tremble had infected her voice, mirrored in the way that her sapphire eyes quivered hesitantly as they stared into his.

"Of course not," he replied firmly, disarming her worry with a small smile. She returned the gesture, if slowly, then leaned forward to brush a kiss over his lips. As near as she was, her words came as a caress of warmth along the line of his mouth.

"I won't lie to you, Lelouch," she murmured softly, "of course I'd rather have you all to myself." The tip of her pink tongue slipped out to wet her lips before she drew back, as to better gaze into his eyes. "But with you, though… I don't think that's possible." He watched as Kallen took a deep breath, steadying herself. Lelouch became quite keenly aware of the way her breasts pushed more insistently against his chest as she inhaled; he tried to ignore the feeling, making himself concentrate on returning her stare. "So long as a piece of your heart belongs to me," she whispered with a sad smile, "…I'll love you with all of my own."

Stunned by the sincerity of her words, Lelouch blinked a few times, staring at her. She smiled weakly, almost embarrassed. And then he collected himself, enfolding her in his arms, Kallen relenting and melting into the offered embrace. Unseen by her, a single tear rolled from the corner of his eye, down the side of his face and onto the pillow beneath. He spoke with a sentiment to match her own. "It may be a larger piece than you might think, Kallen." That seemed to please her, as she began to lightly kiss the side of his neck; he shivered in response, his head tilting back and offering more of his skin to her soft lips and tasting tongue. Lelouch let his hands explore the contours of her back, one stroking the hollow between her shoulder blades as the other drifted down the line of her spine, past her hips, to lightly squeeze her buttocks. She giggled into the curve of his neck, then lifted her head just enough to find his lips for a kiss.

"Still," he said breathily after she had settled back down on top of him, "I didn't think you'd be so… amenable, to that." It was her turn to chuckle, and Lelouch felt her arms sliding beneath him to hold his shoulders; he accommodated her.

"Well… I had some time to get used to the idea, when she and I were trying to find a way to get you back, after you lost your memories." Suddenly she pushed herself up, elbows locking to support her weight, her hands on the bed to either side of his chest. Eyes of a clear sea blue fixed him with a disapproving glare. "Just don't think this means you can go around bedding every girl who throws herself at your feet." He blinked innocently, showing her his empty palms in a gesture of surrender.

Satisfied, she gave a firm nod, then, as if considering something else, she glanced away, a bloom of color spreading across her cheeks. "And you better not be thinking any perverted thoughts either, Lelouch." She still refused to meet his eyes, her blush becoming all the more prominent in the low light from above. He was intrigued by her change in demeanor – perhaps with a little wine and a bit of coaxing, the three of them could…. Reddening at the indecency of it, Lelouch averted his eyes downward, only to be treated to the sight of her full breasts, hanging ripe and pendant between her supporting arms. His swallow was audible, and he had to give his head a shake before collecting himself and narrowing his brow at her.

He was about to reply with a playfully indignant retort but a muffled female voice from beyond the closed bedroom door made the sound die in his throat. "Lelouch, I brought – " In a flood of white, the rest of the world came rushing inside, and at its forefront, in the doorway, stood C.C., her figure a dark silhouette against the brightness.

Disoriented by the sudden light assaulting his eyes, Lelouch only thought he could see, just for an instant, a flash of emotion on C.C.'s features as she took in the room. She looked stricken. Devastated. Betrayed. But when he blinked away the residual afterimage and his vision refocused, her countenance had regained the mask of cool indifference she perpetually wore – if it had even been broken. Yellow irises regarded blue and violet alike with a thread of knowing amusement. "My, my," she chuckled in a sardonic voice edged with anger, "haven't we been busy this morning." That gaze narrowed on Kallen, still straddling him – then lowered, C.C. arching a fine brow as she considered the other woman's full, bared breasts. "I must admit – they are quite impressive, Kallen."

When she glanced down, Kallen's eyes widened, as if suddenly realizing her nakedness; with a sharp yelp, she flung herself under the bed sheets, curling up in a fetal position beside him – but not before she blushed a fierce red, from the curve of her collarbone all the way to the roots of her hair. Lelouch would not let himself be intimidated. He pushed up onto his elbows, glaring sharply at the green haired young woman as she stepped inside the room. The gold tip of her white, thigh-length boot toed a lacy ball of bunched up pink fabric – Kallen's panties. "Lelouch, I'm surprised you even made it to the bed, you horny little punk." Underneath the sheet, Kallen's body tensed; he slid a comforting hand to the back of her neck in reassurance, easing her anxiety.

"As you can see," he replied in a voice of equal ire, "you are interrupting. Leave." Her eyes of burnished amber did not flinch under the full weight of the smoldering violet stare he leveled at her. Instead, she smiled – it was not a gesture of wry sarcasm, but rather one of a resigned sadness. It was a look that surprised him with its sentiment, and because it was so unexpected, it worked to ebb his anger.

"Very well, Lelouch," came her murmured reply, accompanied by a smooth turn on her heels. She didn't depart immediately, but waited in the threshold, her head turned to speak to him over her shoulder. "I'd like to have a word with you, later tonight. About the terms of our contract." With that, she left, the gold-trimmed black tails of her outfit swishing quietly in her wake.

Kallen followed suit soon after, quickly collecting and donning her clothes. Lelouch watched her wordlessly from his seat at the edge of the bed; he regretted that she was leaving him, but enjoyed the sight of her as she dressed, her body lithe and her movements smooth, graceful, like a dancer. But before she left, Kallen bent down over him, slung her arms casually around his neck, and kissed him sweetly, sharing his breath, as if to reassure him that he wasn't the reason behind her decision not to stay. And then she told him the strangest thing. "I know I shouldn't be saying this, since she's my rival, after all…" she paused, her blue eyes intent on his violet, "but if I were her, I'd be furious with you." Her hand caressed the side of his face, and she added, with a blush, "Still, if you went to me, and told me how you felt about me… I don't think I could refuse you." A small, abashed smile curved in her lips, complementing the color in her cheeks. "You should go to her, Lelouch. Explain this to her – explain us. I think she will accept it."

Yes, he decided, the two of them must be mad - and Lelouch himself as well, for even entertaining such a preposterous notion of a relationship. He was still considering Kallen's unnerving suggestion when he finally left his bedroom, stepping distractedly into the white ambience of the lounge.

A glinted reflection from the low central table caught his eye, drawing him out of his thoughts. It was an ornately styled, covered silver tray, along with a plain ceramic teapot beside two cups on matching saucers. Breakfast. That was what she had brought him – what she had been saying upon coming across him and Kallen in bed. Lelouch stared at the tray for a long while, violet eyes intent – brooding. He did not feel at all hungry. Back in his sleeping quarters, unbeknownst to him, the flickering light in the panel on the ceiling finally sputtered out.

* * *

Cloaked in shadow, Rolo watched silently as the caped figure of Lelouch, dressed as Zero, glanced to either exit of the cargo bay, then ushered the more slender silhouette, Kallen, into one of the smaller storage rooms on the farther side. His eyes narrowed, the expression accompanied by a tight frown. Nii-san shouldn't be pushing young women into dark corners. And what did he see in Kallen? Why her?

Trying to quell the flaring jealousy at seeing the redheaded woman with his brother, Rolo turned instead to regard the majestic figure of his Knightmare Frame, Vincent, kneeling in one of the recessed, covered hangars. What had Lelouch been doing to it?

His interest had been piqued upon coming across all of the mechanics and technicians who worked in the hangar now congregating in the outer corridors. By the way that they loitered aimlessly, their expressions blank, Rolo surmised that Lelouch had used his Geass in order to have some time alone inside the loading bay - but he didn't know for what purpose. When he had entered, he had seen the opened cockpit block of his Vincent, and Zero, enshrouded in his tapering black cape, looming atop the Knightmare with his back to him.

Some remnant of the wariness and mistrust that had been instilled inside him by his time as an assassin had urged him into summoning his own power, stopping Lelouch's perception of time and allowing Rolo, in those stolen moments, to find cover in the darkness behind a few stacked storage containers. Upon releasing his Geass, Rolo's eyes had followed the figure of Lelouch descending smoothly on the lift line to the ground. He then promptly closed the cockpit block with some kind of remote control in his hand. And that was when Kallen had come in through the far entrance, spotting Lelouch and calling out to him. They had shared a few murmured words, too low spoken to be audible to Rolo, before Lelouch took Kallen aside into the storage room.

Switching his attention between the Knightmare frame and the door through which Kallen and Lelouch had absconded, Rolo contemplated what he should do. He knew that he had to trust his Nii-san – by choice and by fate, the only viable future he could have would be through his brother – and yet something about the way Lelouch had been acting, ever since he had dealt with Shirley, struck Rolo as unusual. His behavior had been… off. Sure enough, seeing Lelouch doing something to Vincent had made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

But he had to believe that whatever Lelouch was up to, it was for his own benefit. After all, they were brothers. He wouldn't let Rolo come to any harm – Lelouch had proven as much, when he had saved him at the Chinese Embassy. Nii-san had used his own Knightmare to shield Rolo from an enemy sniper round that would certainly have killed him. Unconsciously, Rolo's hand slid into the pocket of his snug, blue flight suit, idly fingering the locket that Nii-san had given him as a birthday present. Yes, he had to trust Lelouch – to believe in him. Still fondling the locket, Rolo left the cargo bay through the far exit, looking back over his shoulder only once to make sure that neither Kallen nor Lelouch would see him depart.

* * *

"So what did you want to talk about?" As the door slid closed behind him, Lelouch watched Kallen take a few hesitant steps into the room. Though her tight red flight suit was supposed to increase survivability, Lelouch had no idea just how it was to accomplish such a feat, considering the way it hugged her curves like a second skin and left nothing to the imagination. He was suddenly grateful that he still wore his helmet – it hid the rising blush.

She turned, slowly, her clear blue eyes lifting from the floor to tentatively gaze into the dark blue synthetic oval concealing his face, her stare flickering as if in search of the features she knew lay behind the darkly tinted visage. "We're alone… won't you take off your mask?" Arms folding unconsciously beneath her breasts, Kallen's gloved hands fingered the clinging red sleeves of her jumpsuit, betraying her nervousness. Lelouch had no idea behind its cause.

"Very well." The curved plates at the back of his neck slid upward, retracting with three clicks that sounded loud within the confines of the helmet. With a tilt of his head, the it was off, held cradled in one hand. He shook out his hair just a bit, reveling in the feel of suddenly cool air against his face, as his other hand reached up to lower the clinging cloth obscuring his nose and mouth. "All right, now will you tell me what's bothering you?" Emblazoned in his left eye was the magenta sigil of Geass, with its upswept fronds looking like a bird in mid-beat of its wings – or like a falcon, just before plummeting into a dive. Only now realizing that the power in his left eye was completely unfettered, Lelouch felt the instinctive need to shade it with his hand, but he restrained that urge; having used his ability on her once before, and as the command had not been rescinded by Jeremiah's Geass Canceller, there was no risk in exposing her to his power, even accidentally.

She regarded the glowing symbol in his nearly pupil-less left eye before shifting her gaze to the side, Kallen answering his question with one of her own and catching him slightly off-guard. "Have you talked with C.C. yet?"

The abruptness of it, along with the way she kept her distance, even after he took a half-step toward her, made Lelouch's sense of caution flare. He furrowed his brow, the intensity in his violet right iris eerily complemented by the glimmering purple emblem in his left. "No, not yet. Is that what this is about?" He hadn't been avoiding the woman, exactly – there had just been so many things that needed to be done that he hadn't yet gotten a chance to settle things with her. But truth be told, he didn't know what he would say to her, even if he hadn't been so busy. He was beginning to have doubts that the simple explanation that Kallen had suggested would actually suffice. From his experience, C.C. had an uncanny ability to complicate things – a dozen times over.

"Well… no." With great difficulty, it seemed, Kallen finally made herself meet his eyes, her expression quivering visibly in its uncertainty. It was only then that she at last closed the distance between them, her slim arms lightly encircling his waist beneath the cape draping back around his body. His mask still tucked in the curve of one arm, Lelouch let the hand of the other cradle her head at the base of her neck. Instead of folding fully into the embrace, Kallen remained just far enough away for her blue irises to regard his violet – close enough for a kiss. Something about her demeanor, though, fixed Lelouch in place. When her words came, they mirrored the hesitance in her countenance, spoken quietly and carefully, her partly downcast eyes regarding him momentarily every so often through a dark curtain of thick lashes. "Since you and I are… together, now," she murmured, pausing to wet her lips, "…that means I'm still the head of your bodyguards, isn't that right?" The veil of lashes lifting, Kallen's blue-eyed stare was intense, intent on only him. "I'm still the captain of Team Zero."

Lelouch returned her pointed look with a blank one, his face unreadable. He thought he knew where she was going with this line of questioning. "You are," he affirmed after a long moment. Smoothly but deliberately, he set his mask down on one of storage crates on his left, then added, in a measured tone, "However, I haven't changed my mind about tomorrow. You won't be involved." Her hands found the front of his chest, pushing herself away at about arms length; having expected as much, Lelouch let her go. The glare she fixed on him may have moved him a step back in other circumstances, but at that moment, he would not back down. In this at least, he would remain firm, despite the risk of incurring her wrath.

"Why not?!" she demanded, in a voice whose heat matched that of her burning blue eyes. "And don't you dare give me some excuse about keeping me out of harm's way," she added through gritted teeth. "I thought we already agreed about that." Her hands had become fists, balled up in the gold-trimmed bluish purple fabric of his coat.

He chuckled, but stopped himself after noticing that her anger only flared with the gesture, Lelouch opting to clear his throat instead. "It isn't that. It's quite the opposite, actually." Quick as a flash, the scathing emotion in her features was replaced by a sudden, guarded suspicion – her curiosity. He answered the unvoiced question. "The facility we'll be attacking derives its protection mostly from the fact that its location is a secret. Or was a secret, rather. In any event, I don't expect to encounter any significant resistance, Knightmares or otherwise." She blinked at him, clearly confused at the revelation.

"No resistance? Lelouch, why are we attacking it? And even if there isn't much risk, as the captain of Team Zero I should-" Lelouch cut her off by putting his hand on her shoulder, where it swept up toward the base of her neck. Even through the synthetic material of her flight suit, the warmth of her felt good.

"Kallen, will you trust me on this?" His gaze softened a bit – as much as it could, given the almost eerie glow of Geass spreading across his left iris. "I promise that I will rely on you just as much as I have in the past, but just this once, go along with my decision. Please."

She regarded him for a long moment, considering his words as her eyes searched his face. Slowly, the hands at the front of his chest relaxed, smoothing the wrinkles they had made in his clothing, before sliding back and behind him as she stepped close, reacquainting him to her embrace. "All right, Lelouch," she murmured softly into the corner of his jaw, her chin resting against the side of his scarf-clad neck. "I trust you." His gloved fingers entwining in the tousled, dark red peaks of her hair, Lelouch lost himself in the sensation of her – the heat of her body, even through the layers of his clothes and hers, the sweet smell of her hair, the light, clean scent of her skin, the lingering fragrance of her lavender soap.

"Thank you." He closed his eyes.

* * *

Torrents of hot water beating relentlessly against his skin, Lelouch let all of the tension throughout him drain beneath the rhythmic massage of liquid fingers working the muscles of his back and shoulders. Moreover, in the misty confines of the shower stall, with just the pattering music of running water lilting in his ears, Lelouch had a few moments to organize his thoughts.

The time he had spent with Kallen, kissing and touching, tucked away in a secluded nook of the Ikaruga, had seemed far too brief. He sighed at the memory of it. With she in her flight suit and he in his outfit as Zero, they hadn't been able to do anything, of course, and she took full advantage of that, teasing him incessantly with her hands and mouth – to the extent that Lelouch wondered whether it had been her way of getting back at him, leaving him in a state of immense sexual frustration. And then she had admonished him for thinking perverted thoughts, with no regard to their current location – a storage room in a hangar bay, of all places. But it had been she, not he, who had undone the top of her flight suit, surrendering the supple flesh underneath to his teeth and lips. Idly, he wondered how long she would have to wear the suit zipped to the collar before the marks where his kisses had lingered would finally fade, standing out now as mottled red bruises below her collarbone and near the upper slopes of her breasts.

When she finally broke their intimate embrace, Lelouch could tell by the sultry gleam in her blue eyes that she was half considering stripping off her clothes and his, storage room be damned. He made the decision for her, slipping one hand to the small of her back and drawing her close while the other nestled between her upper thighs, feeling the warmth of her sex even through the synthetic layers of her jumpsuit. Using gloved fingers, he granted her a taste of the release that she so desired, rubbing the skin-tight red material covering her crotch until she shuddered in her climax – but not before he let her hang on the cusp of her orgasm, for what, to her, must have seemed an eternity.

After leaving her, Lelouch couldn't seem to muster any enthusiasm for the remainder of the appointments that were scheduled for that afternoon and evening. He had briefed Rolo and Jeremiah on the ruse that they, as his protection, would set up in the desert outside of the Order's headquarters, then made the needed preparations for the backdrops and furniture to ensure the charade would be convincing. And afterward, he had had to address Diethard's concerns regarding the suspicions of the other members of the Executive Committee.

Unfortunately, there was little that could be done about that. Unlike at Ashford Academy, there was no double here with the Order of the Black Knights to pose as Zero when he was away, and his absence had apparently not gone unnoticed. At first it was a necessity – to rescue Kallen. But then he had stayed at Ashford, in order to determine the motives behind Anya and Gino's matriculation into the academy. Of course, the details of that operation had to be kept a secret from the rest of the committee, in order to preserve his anonymity. Now, with Rolo and Jeremiah on their side for reasons that likewise could not be disclosed, Lelouch knew that the doubts having taken root in certain members of the committee were now finding fertile soil. Tomorrow, he would have to proceed very carefully, in order to avoid inadvertently feeding their suspicions. And that was why, after the massacre was over, he would be certain to use his Geass to manipulate the memories of all those involved regarding what exactly had transpired during the attack.

Gritting his teeth, Lelouch steeled his resolve. He would use whatever means necessary, tell what half-truths he needed to tell, to see the Order razed to the ground. Not only were its assets a powerful weapon that his father, the Emperor, could use against him, but the Order, and the Geass that it represented, had toyed with Shirley's life, and through Rolo, had taken it. Tomorrow, he would offer up both Rolo and the Order as atonement to Shirley.

That, too, was another reason behind his decision to bar Kallen from the impending attack, aside from his main justification of sparing her from the kind of ruthless killing that the mission would demand. C.C.'s inclusion was of course unavoidable, but Lelouch felt that he owed it to Shirley to follow through with this on his own. He felt that somehow, the love that she had held for him, though unreturned by Lelouch, would be stained if Kallen, whom he did love, were to be involved.

A startling realization dawned on him then, forcing open his eyes. Keeping Kallen innocent of the cold-blooded brutality that would be essential tomorrow was indeed a key part of his rationale, but not the main part – rather, he didn't want Kallen to see he himself embracing such ruthlessness. He refused to allow himself to feel shame at what he would do – he knew it had to be done. Yet Kallen had fallen in love with Zero, the maker of miracles. And yet he couldn't help but think that her feelings for him would change if she found out that the price behind many of his miracles was, more often than not, a price paid in blood, indelibly staining his hands.

Lelouch had no aversion to using people, of course – that was the core tenet of his Geass, after all. Be they Britannians or Japanese, he had used people, had sacrificed their lives, deserving or not, in order to further his own goals. So long as the final results were obtained, what did it matter if he expended such lives to work toward his own ends? He had used those whom he had loved – Euphie. But despite the results that had engendered – a nearly decisive victory to win back Japan – the pain of that sacrifice still stung. His eyes closing, he repeated the mantra over and over in his head: the ends justify the means. Some corner of his mind told him that Kallen would not see it that way – not if she knew just how harsh was the price he had willingly paid.

Another part of him questioned whether their relationship could even work if he hid that conniving, heartless side of himself from her. It was a part of who he was – part of Lelouch, the man behind Zero's mask. If Kallen had fallen for the mask, was she now projecting those feelings onto the man, without seeing him for his entirety? No, that wasn't quite accurate – along with Zero, she also had to reconcile her feelings toward Lelouch Lamperouge, the Britannian student. But that was just another mask. Who was his true self – Zero, Lelouch Lamperouge, or Lelouch vi Britannia? Who did she love?

Setting aside those thoughts, Lelouch opened his eyes, but had to blink away water in order to ascertain whether what he was seeing was real or imagined. It was C.C., standing in the shower stall in front of him, completely naked, clothed only by the long falls of beautiful green hair that only partly hid the wet, glistening curves of her body beneath – hair that matched the trimmed thatch of soft green curls between her legs. Enshrouded in steam, her alabaster skin seemed even more pale and white, lending her an almost ethereal presence, an effect only amplified by the mortality of the angry red scar that marked the flesh below her left breast.

Her hands on his chest were real enough, forcing him back a step, until his shoulders met tile; she didn't flinch even as she passed beneath the spraying torrent from the shower head, soaking her hair to a darker green that clung to her skin, following the rivulets of dripping water. Slim white arms slipping around his neck, Lelouch could feel the hardness of her nipples indenting his chest as she pressed the slick heat of her body along the line of his.

Though her lips were a fingerbreadth away, she didn't kiss him yet, instead contenting herself with gazing into his eyes. He hadn't replaced the contact lens binding his Geass, but she didn't seem to be focusing on that; instead, her look seemed to penetrate deeper, as if she were staring into his soul. Her polished golden irises had a cast that he couldn't quite place, gleaming with an intent that made him uneasy. "C.C.," he murmured after a short while, if only to fill the wordless void between them.

"Seeing you with Kallen has had me… out of sorts," she said by way of explanation, a wry twist to her lips, "…but for now, you are mine." Her kiss was soft but insistent, lips warm and inviting, the tip of a pink tongue slipping out to caress the line of his mouth. He thought of the silver tray, left untouched even now on the table in the lounge outside; of the sad, resigned smile she had offered him after he had harshly ordered her to leave that morning; of the fleeting look of pain and betrayal that had stricken her features when she had first opened his bedroom door. But more than anything, his own need ached inside him, still not sated after his foreplay with Kallen, and his erection throbbed now with the promise of release, hot against the soft flesh of upper thighs. Lelouch found himself returning her kiss, parting his lips for her inquisitive tongue and meeting it with his own, while his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tighter to him.

After the kiss had ended, she took a few panting breaths before flashing him a coy smile. "No objections, Lelouch?" She laughed at his expression of undeniable hunger, then moved her body deliberately, her stare always intent on him. Using only one arm to hold herself around his neck, the hand of the other slid down his chest to grasp the growing hardness of him in her fingers. "I've been thinking about this since morning," she murmured with a sultry gleam in her eyes, and followed, with a heated whisper, "…you should feel how wet I've become." A flash of mischief alit in those amber irises as she shifted her weight to her right foot, allowing her left leg, bent at the knee, to slide up against the side of his hip. At the same time, her arm around his neck tightened, holding herself up as she went on tiptoe, while the hand still stroking him lifted his erect manhood to lie against his lower stomach; and then he felt her, her swollen lips opening themselves to the underside of his shaft, bathing him in the moistness of her arousal.

Lelouch's breath caught with the sensation of her soft, quivering sex pressed hard against the stiff length of him, warm and wet in the height of her desire. It wasn't the same kind of wetness as the water on skin, but slicker, hotter, as if her natural oil held its own flame. She felt like liquid satin. He watched her, forcing himself to breathe, as she looped both arms around his neck and bent slightly at the waist, curving her hips upward. She kissed him, taking his moans into her mouth as she began to rhythmically grind her body against his, stroking that yielding softness up and down the line of his erection.

His senses peaked, he could feel each velvet fold of her, enveloping him in a tantalizing, teasing embrace, punctuated by the swollen, throbbing hardness of her clit; she gasped every time the ridge of the head rubbed up along that tight nub of pleasure. Accommodating her position, he hooked one arm behind her raised knee to support her, while the other held her snugly at the small of her back. By her quickened breathing and the flush of red in her cheeks, he knew that she was close, and he gave her what she wanted, lifting her up off of her tiptoes and letting her focus all her energy into crushing that one, painfully sensitive area onto the contoured tip of him, bucking over and over until her entire body seized with her release, bathing him anew with the wetness of her orgasm.

"From this position," he said with a casual smirk as he waited for her to catch her breath, "it would be very easy for me to slide it inside you." His violet eyes flashed with heat – with need, and her returning smile looked almost wolfish.

"Then what are you waiting for?" Her arms tightening around his neck, she leaned close to his ear, her tongue flicking out to lick his earlobe before whispering, "Put it in me." Her hips adjusted, C.C. pulling her body up just enough so that the tip of him nestled in the groove of her entrance. Thrusting quickly, he was inside her, and she cried out at the sudden intrusion; but soon enough she responded, drawing up both legs, the first still hooked by his elbow, the second wrapping around his waist.

Burdened by the weight of her, Lelouch took a few steps forward, pinning her body between himself and the tiles of the shower stall. His free arm edged its way under her other leg so that he held both now to either side of him, lifted up in the crook of his elbows, anchored by palms placed flat on the tile. Thus fixing her in place, he began to move, slowly at first, to allow her to adjust to his presence. She whimpered, clearly wanting more, her body arching to meet him each time he sank into her, the silken glove of her sex pulsing and squeezing around him, consuming him, only to surrender his flesh to ready for the next deep stroke. At her urging, he increased the pace of the motion, driving into her harder and faster, her moans echoing off of the tile walls in a euphony underscored by the patter of falling water.

In her current state of heightened arousal, there was no way for her to last amid such an onslaught, were that her intent; quickly, she reached climax, but he didn't slow, leaving her at the mercy of her next release, following quickly on the heels of the last. Wave after wave of ecstasy coursing through her, it seemed the only thing grounding her to reality were her hands at his back, fingernails digging into his flesh and dragging down to leave long, red marks. Losing herself in all-encompassing sensation of a final, shuddering orgasm, she scratched him hard enough that he gasped in pain, half-expecting to see blood swirling into the drain below, should he look down; her teeth, too, clenched around the meat of his shoulder, at the side of his neck, not breaking skin but nevertheless hard enough that he expected it would leave a bruise.

"Wait," she managed through a ragged gasp of air, her entire body quaking with the resounding aftershocks of pleasure, ringing through her from between clenched thighs to curled toes and clawed fingers. Her breath hot in his ear, she murmured in lewd promise, "…Let me turn around."

Reluctantly he complied, setting her down, the length of him sliding out completely, but not before giving her one final, hard thrust, eliciting a barely stifled scream from her throat. Though her feet were on the floor, she still clung tight to his neck, as if afraid to trust her weakened knees; giving her a moment to get her bearings, Lelouch let his hands glide up and down the contours of her back, caressing her shoulders and line of her spine, then slipping down to lightly cup the round swells of her buttocks. She kissed his neck, pushing her ample flesh back into his hand. "Are you ready?" he asked, giving her a firm squeeze.

In answer, her hold on him loosened, her hands moving to his chest and pushing him back just enough to let her turn around so that she faced the wall. One hand splayed on the tile to brace herself with her forearm, the other snaked between her legs, spreading wide the glistening pink lips of her womanhood in open invitation. "Please," she murmured, looking at him hotly from over one shoulder, amber eyes gleaming with anticipation, "…do it hard."

Grasping her tight around the narrow of her waist, Lelouch rammed the entirety of his manhood inside her, hard enough that the force of the collision lifted her up onto her toes. "Yes!" she cried, grinding her buttocks onto the front of his hips, "…just like that, give it to me!" And he did, pounding roughly into her, the sound of slapping flesh mingling lasciviously with her growing moans of bliss. The hand still between her legs now fervently rubbed her clit, and her expert fingers coupled with the unrestrained abandon of his movements pushed her off the cusp of ecstasy countless times, her body tightening in the grip of that pleasure.

"C.C.," Lelouch managed, his hold around her waist tightening almost painfully, "…I can't last like this…." The whole length of her body was now pressed against the wet tile of the wall, C.C. still on her tiptoes as he took her brutally from behind, his movements as relentless as the unending font of water raining down over the side of his body.

"Tell me," she said between sharp moans, "…just before you're about to-" a sudden gasp cut her off as he redoubled his efforts, overtaken by the irrepressible hunger for his own climax.

He felt it building inside him, a warm tingling sensation that spread slowly out from the depth of his loins, to the base of his shaft, and all the way to its tip. "Now…!" he gasped, half of him still trying to suppress that burning need of release, while the other so desperately craved it – to spill his seed inside her in a last, shuddering thrust.

But she denied him that, C.C. pushing him back a step with her hips before sliding off of him – the wet, velvet folds of her womanhood were quickly replaced by the moist heat of her mouth as she turned, dropping to her knees, her lips wrapping around the head of his length and sucking hard. An insistent tongue caressing the contours of its underside, she smoothly took him deeper, until he could feel himself hit the back of her throat, then work past it. Aided by her hands at his lower back, she forced him farther into her mouth, down into her throat. And when her lips were finally at the very base of his manhood, her nose nuzzled in the dark curls of his hair, Lelouch felt her throat tighten, a rhythmic constriction that squeezed along the entirety of him inside her, as if she were trying to swallow the length of smooth flesh on which she sucked.

Gasping, Lelouch's eyes went wide at the pleasure – all of it too much for him to bear. His fingers tightening in the matted locks of her green hair, he at last surrendered to the long awaited rapture, his hands holding her head firmly in place, pressed into the front of his hips, as his manhood jerked inside her mouth, pumping a ragged torrent of his seed down her throat. He moaned, shuddering, his knees growing weak, all of his vitality seeming committed to this single explosive release. She drew back just enough to take in a breath through her nose, letting his come spill into the back of her mouth, tasting him on her tongue. Still, she swallowed, sucking hard, coaxing more of his essence out of him; her left hand slid between his legs to fondle his balls, squeezing gently, as though to drain him of every last drop.

After his convulsions had subsided, she let him slip from her mouth, C.C. planting a wet kiss on the tip of his member. Having no intention of letting him soften, her right hand now took hold of the shaft, skimming a loose fist over his skin, while the left still caressed his balls. "Kallen can't do _that_ for you, now can she?" Her golden eyes gleamed as she looked hotly up at him, rivulets of water streaming down her face.

The long pent up tensions now finally satisfied, Lelouch, in a moment of abrupt clarity, now understood the look that he earlier had not been able to place – the same look with which she gazed up at him now. Her eyes had a predatory gleam, as if she were a she-wolf claiming her territory. The dull ache of the bite on his shoulder, along with the still stinging red marks running down his back, now had a different meaning – she had left her mark on him, doubtless for Kallen to see. At the center of it was C.C.'s jealousy, and now, she was using her body, performing favors for him, to win his heart. A wave of shame at the realization washed through him, making his cheeks flush red. He should have known it at the start, and stopped her before it had come this far. But he hadn't, instead craving his release so intensely that it didn't matter just who became the outlet, and she had been willing, if for the wrong intentions. He had taken advantage of her.

Fingers abandoning their hold on her hair, Lelouch took a step back, turning his head away from the barrage of water as he passed beneath the showerhead. "C.C.," he said quietly, just loud enough to be heard, "I don't want you like this." His eyes were angled down and away, watching the swirling currents emptying down into the perforated drain of the floor. In a way, it was almost ironic – he had expected Kallen, rash and quick to anger, full of emotion, to have been the jealous one, but she had entertained the possibility of a triangular relationship – at least on the surface. But C.C., who had first expressed her willingness to share, had now become intensely possessive, after finding out just what that really meant.

When he stepped back, she took the opportunity to rise smoothly to her feet, a left hand finding him still hard as she sidled against the wet line of his body, followed by her right arm slipping around his slick torso. Using just two fingers, she stroked the underside of his shaft in a light, teasing touch that had him quivering with anticipation, though against his will. The unexpected caress made him glance back at her, and try as he might, he couldn't quite keep the embers of desire out of his eyes. "Tonight," she said in a voice smoky with promise, "…you can have me any way you want, Lelouch." Leaning close to his ear, she added, in a whisper barely audible above the falling water, "You can put it… anywhere… you want." He swallowed, his throat painfully dry.

Though it took great effort on his part, Lelouch somehow managed to push her away, holding her tight by her upper arms and forcing her back, a bit more roughly than he intended, until her shoulders hit the wall. Startled by its abruptness, C.C. shut her eyes tight, her arms crossing in front of her by instinct, as if to ward off any impending blows. After none came, she hesitantly looked up at him, blinking in confusion. "I'm sorry," he said, glancing down and loosening his grip on her, even if he still kept her at arms length. "We can't, C.C.. I can't be with you, like that, anymore." He made himself look up at her face, to see the pain and hurt in her expression, her eyes glistening with welling tears, lower lip trembling visibly.

"You are… refusing me, Lelouch?" Her voice quavered, the question carrying no small amount of incredulity. She searched his features, her own still cast with an air of fragility that reminded him of the way Kallen had looked that morning, when she had pleaded with him, for her heart's sake, to destroy any hope for a chance that they could ever be together.

"It's not fair to you." It was true. He knew, as much as he could without asking her outright, that she loved him, and seducing him was her way of trying to make him fall in love with her – as if by becoming the object of his bodily lust, an emotional attachment to the woman would eventually follow. Although he still didn't know how he felt toward her, he valued her enough that he didn't want her to feel as if she must throw her body at his feet, offer herself up as his plaything, in order to gain his affection. Part of that had been his fault, he knew, for accepting her invitation of casual sex in the beginning, when the strain of living multiple lives had become too great. Such companionship with her for a time, at least, had relieved that strain. The point at which it had become more than that to her was just another detail that he had never noted. But the fact remained that for now, to continue in such an unbalanced exchange would not be fair to her – he at least had to sort out his feelings for her first, and perhaps afterwards, something would follow.

Sharp words, spoken in a voice dripping with venom, drew his attention back to regard her. "Don't you mean it's not fair to Kallen?" Her expression had changed, gleaming golden eyes auguring into him with such piercing force that they moved him back a step, his hands quickly releasing their hold on her. Despite the glare, he could see on her cheeks the streaming lines of tears, distinguishable even amidst the droplets of water running down the sides of her face. "You've made your choice," she said bitterly, "Now go." Her arms folded across her chest, covering her bared breasts. She refused to look at him.

"C.C.," he said tentatively, reaching his hand out to touch her, "It isn't like that. I'm not-" But she didn't let him finish, interrupting him in mid-sentence.

"Leave!" The sound of the single shrieked word reverberated off the tile confines of the shower stall, coupled by a look from her whose viciousness snapped shut his mouth. Complying with her wish, he turned, sliding open the frosted glass door to admit a rush of cooler air, which caused the steam inside to billow upward.

Pausing for a moment, he asked in a quiet voice, over his shoulder, "Just what am I to you, C.C.?" Her sardonic, lilting laugh drifted to his ears at the question.

"You shouldn't have had to ask, Lelouch." When she said nothing more, he departed, closing the door behind him.

* * *

When she was sure he was gone, C.C. sank to the floor, bracing her back against the corner of the shower stall and hugging her drawn up knees. The pain between her legs, where he had been too rough with her, had faded now – just another benefit of having an immortal body. What little blood there had been was long washed away with the drain water, unnoticed by Lelouch. Her throat still ached, though, she having choked herself on him for his pleasure, and the taste of his seed, which she had never seemed to bother her before, now seemed bitter in her mouth.

"He rejected me, Marianne," she murmured quietly into the tiled corner of the stall. "But maybe that's for the best." Her eyes narrowed, almost as if considering unspoken words. "Of course, my wish hasn't changed." After a moment, she chuckled. "Yes, it will be easier for me, now." The sad, resigned smile curving into the line of her mouth, C.C.'s eyes focused on something far off in the distance, something outside the bounds of the room, the ship, and perhaps, even the world. "It will be easier for me to die."

* * *

Wearing a darkly sinister smile, Lelouch watched the carnage unfolding below him, evidenced by plumes of thick gray smoke following every explosion or building's collapse. The attack was proceeding quite well, he thought, and the diversion he had orchestrated to catch V.V. off guard and pinpoint his location had been well worth the effort.

Initially, he had had his doubts, particularly concerning C.C. and what had happened the night before. But when he had gone to the hangar bay to embark on the mission, he had found her already mounted in her pink Knightmare, awaiting his orders. She hadn't spoken to him, of course, but he couldn't exactly fault her for that.

At least Kallen hadn't been there to see him off, adding insult to injury. He supposed that she was still a bit touchy about being left out of this mission. But it had worked to his advantage, and he could handle Kallen at a later time. That, at least, was something that he would look forward to; Lelouch had the distinct feeling that smoothing things out with C.C. would not go over so well.

Shinkirou floating high above the underground city, Lelouch's fingers fluttered across a keypad, calling up a magnified view of something on the ground onto the main screen. It was a bloodied hand, reaching out from beneath a heavy slab of stone wall, its fingers slack in the crushing finality of death. Just another life among many that would find their end that day. Even this high above, the amplified audio transmitters of his Knightmare carried the shouts of men and wailing screams of women, cut off abruptly by staccato gunfire and the booming bass of explosions. Yes, he had made the right decision in keeping Kallen from this attack. He had vowed to become evil to destroy an even greater evil, and he would keep to that vow, for Shirley's sake.

Dismissing the image onscreen with a flick of his fingertip on a key, Lelouch turned his attention to the projected area map in the lower corner of his view screen. The central purple area in that hexagonal grid was quickly being consumed by red, signifying sectors that had been pacified by the forces of the Black Knights. V.V. lay somewhere amid that central grid, and Lelouch's snare was closing around his neck. Once V.V. was secured in a high-pressure case, he would only have to detonate the bomb he had planted in Vincent's cockpit block, and his retribution for Shirley would be complete. He would offer up Rolo's life, V.V., and all the members of the Order, as a service to Shirley.

In a chaotic burst of dust and debris, something large erupted from the buildings below him, the crash of stone echoing throughout the expansive cavern in which the city had been built. "What!?" Rearing Shinkirou back to avoid and assess the threat, Lelouch found himself staring at the Knight Giga Fortress, Siegfried. "Jeremiah!" he shouted through a now open communication channel, "This unit's –"

"Yes," came the older man's resonant voice through the static, "It uses potential nerve linking. The only one who can use it other than me is –"

V.V. "I knew it!" One large green spike emerging from out of the orange sphere folded inward, pointing straight at him; even before it launched, Shinkirou's Absolute Defense Territory was engaged, summoning a glowing magenta shield of overlapping hexagons over the Knightmare's chest. Despite that, the force of Siegfried's attack drove Shinkirou back, up through the cavern's ceiling in a grinding jolt of metal on rock.

* * *

The battle was over, but at what cost? From the cockpit of his Knightmare, Kinoshita's eyes scanned over the hundreds of body bags, laid out in neat rows on a clearing of stone forming one level of the underground city. "Aren't we just the same as Britannia, then?" he said to himself, still stunned by the cruelty of the massacre. Many of those body bags were smaller than the others. "Was there a need to kill these children, too? Was there really?" He didn't know what revolted him more – that he had ordered his men to slaughter even children, or the fact that Zero had had the foresight to supply them with the smaller, child-sized body bags. The thought sickened him.

And there were the men he had lost – good soldiers, all – for an attack on what? This was clearly not an army installation; these people, men and women, young and old, had offered no resistance, had possessed no means of defense, at least up until that orange monster had crashed through the city. His men had died fighting the beast of a Knightmare, the one they called Siegfried. That, at least, was now destroyed.

"Vice-Captain Kinoshita!" a voice crackled through a communication channel, "Shinkirou has –, Zero has – disappeared! All communications with him have been cut off!"

His eyes went wide. "What?! Fan out and search the lowermost level! We have to find him!" Without Zero, this massacre, this travesty, would truly be for nothing.

* * *

Sprawled on the ground, Lelouch's eyes slowly focused on the pale orange sky above, lined with striated strings of thin white clouds. His shoulders and back ached from where they had thudded against the wide oval stairway leading up to the main dais of the Sword of Akasha, as Charles had called it. One moment, he had been standing atop his father's, the Emperor's, fallen form, the blood still soaking through his clothes where the bullet had pierced his heart, and the next, he had been alive, eyes open, a maniacal grin splitting his broad face.

In the lingering dizziness of having his head slammed onto the marble floor, Lelouch couldn't understand how it had happened. And then he remembered. The sigil of Geass, with its noble, upswept wings, had appeared in dark red on his father's right palm. Like C.C. and V.V., his father, Charles di Britannia, the Emperor, was immortal. Geass, Lelouch's primary weapon, was now ineffective against him. How was he supposed to fight him, now? To fight an immortal? All of his plans thus far had been made with the ultimate goal of placing himself in eyeshot of his father, so that he could use his Geass and kill him. It now seemed all too futile a strategy. There was just no way he could win.

The Emperor's deep, resounding voice called out from the temple looming above Lelouch, its timbre managing to echo even in this place without walls. "I have obtained a new power to replace Geass," he stated, "Therefore, Lelouch, I may now tell you the true form of this world…." Pushing himself up onto his hands, Lelouch watched as his father's right arm stretched out, some kind of square pillar rising from the ground to meet his opened palm. When he touched it, a ring of diffracted light shot out from the floor around Lelouch, but before he could react, the surrounding world faded away, engulfed by blinding white light.

* * *

Staring at the gold-framed painting hanging in the air before him, Lelouch's gaze alternated between the black-clad nun lying supine on the dark stone floor of the church, her hands folded peacefully over her chest, her head surrounded by a spreading halo of blood, and the naked figure of C.C., curled up at the foot of the altar, clutching her bleeding chest. Now he knew the story behind the scar that so intrigued him – it had been a mortal wound to mark the beginning of her immortal life, an injury that forced C.C. into accepting the curse of immortality in order to survive. In the end, the woman whom she had loved like a mother, whom she had trusted, was only using her – she just a tool to bring to a close the final portion of her life. To allow her to die.

The green haired woman turned away from the painting, regarding him with inquisitive golden eyes. In this colonnade of white marble and sweeping purple arches, she embodied a kind of inner consciousness of the C.C. he knew, locked away inside her along with all her forgotten memories that the intricate, floating paintings represented. "But you are not here yet," she said in that quiet, silken voice, "to me, you are not a person of the past, but a person of the real world, are you not?"

Lelouch regarded her with a sidelong glance, his hands sliding into his pockets. "Who knows?"

"She must have been an important person, no?" Tentatively, she reached out a dark-sleeved arm, her outfit a version of the restraint attire in which he had first seen her, but its colors inverted. Her fingers lightly touched his elbow.

"That can't be." He shifted his gaze back to the painting. C.C.'s words – the real C.C. – still echoed in his mind. 'To me, this person no longer holds any value.' Was she just using him, as she herself had been used? If so, why hadn't she gone through with it? Her wish?

From the corner of his eye, Lelouch thought he saw her smile. "Is that so?" Her hand fell back to her side. "She must have sent you here because she sought to protect you from something, even for a short moment." That made him turn to fully face her, and he blinked in consideration.

She closed the distance between them, her hands gently cupping the sides of his face, as the world around him seemed to flicker in and out of existence, intermittently replaced by surroundings he recognized - the inside of Shinkirou's cockpit. "This place cannot sustain you any longer," her sad whisper came in explanation, eyes glittering as they stared up into his own, "...but perhaps, in the real world, you will be the one. You know it, right? Her true wish…." When he felt her lips brush his in a fleeting kiss, she was gone, as were the columns, archways, and paintings constituting her subconscious prison. In its place was the hard material reality of Shinkirou, and large on the view screen, at the foot of Sword of Akasha, stood his father, the Emperor, with C.C.'s slim figure leaning against him.

"C.C!" he shouted the moment he recognized her, his hands fisting and knuckles turning white at seeing her together with his father.

"So," rumbled Charles' distant voice, "Lelouch has opened the Thought Elevator." In his magnified view of the elder man, Lelouch thought he had seen him smirk.

"I see," he said to himself, glancing around to get his bearings, "so this entire space is a system that interferes with thought." From either side of his seat, a set of twin touch pads folded out in front of him, but before he could mount a response, he was jolted in his seat as huge pyramids of metal slammed into Shinkirou, trapping the Knightmare in place. His jaw clenched.

"This will be quick," his father said in a tone of confident satisfaction. "Watch from where you are, Lelouch." C.C.'s eyes, regarding Lelouch, were pulled back to Charles as a large gloved hand clutched her forearm, his other holding her firmly at the small of her back. And then, leaning forward, he dipped her low, her body arching, almost as if in a dance - or a kiss. C.C.'s right leg lifted, bent at the knee, and her head tilted back, the long locks of her hair streaming beautifully beneath her as a bright rainbow of light silhouetted both their forms. Squinting his eyes, Lelouch thought he could see her hand pressed to his father's chest. He felt helpless to do anything, his mind racing.

"Stop!" he shouted, jaw clenching. "She's… she's my…" his voice trailed off. Accomplice? Friend? Confidante? Lover? She was all those things and more. He now understood what he felt for her. Just as she had bonded with the woman who had given her Geass, so he had with formed a kinship with C.C., but it had become more than that. She had fallen in love with him, with the true Lelouch, Lelouch vi Britannia - not the artificial veneers of himself that were Zero or Lelouch Lamperouge.

Just as those one-eyed masks had mocked him, Lelouch ached to reveal his true nature to those he loved, but his subconscious fear and shame, even more than the surface excuse of necessity, had made that an impossibility. But C.C. was someone with whom he could be his true self, someone who loved him - who accepted even the heartless side of his persona. He did not want to lose her - not like this. Not before he told her just what she meant to him. Not before he fulfilled her true wish.

Angrily, he shouted, "Answer me, C.C.! Why didn't you try to die with me as your replacement?" His fists tightened. "You could have pushed the hell of eternal life onto me! Are you pitying me, C.C.?" She wasn't responding – his words weren't working. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes as he yelled, desperately, "Don't you die with that look on your face! At least smile as you die!" Through gritted teeth, then added, "I'll make you smile, damn it! So –" Lelouch's mouth snapped shut as he watched her abruptly push herself away from Charles, shoving his chest with her hand. She ran a short distance away, then stopped, a square key panel rising up from the ground only to be met by both her hands. It activated in a soft red glow.

"What is the meaning of this, C.C.!?" Charles roared, the light that had surrounded them now fading into nothingness. As if pulled away by invisible chains, the pyramidal barriers surrounding Shinkirou quickly withdrew – his Knightmare was freed.

Lelouch acted swiftly, Shinkirou rising smoothly in the air with a sweep of its arms outward on either side. "I won't have you take any more away from me," he said to his father in a voice of bitter promise, light fingertips dancing along the array of glowing keys illuminated with every touch. The Knightmare's arms angled toward the pillared structure, unleashing twin roiling spheres of red and black lightning from the Hadron blasters beneath its wrists.

"What foolishness!" the Emperor's voice boomed, even as the pulses of searing energy tore through the stone roofs and columns of the temple in a shower of shattered rock and clouds of dust. The volley did not cease, cutting down pillars and archways, wreaking havoc on the ancient structure and leaving a trail of flickering red static wherever they hit.

Without warning, the very ground on which the two figures stood came apart, and C.C. was falling, spiraling down amidst large chunks of beige stone. Immediately Lelouch abandoned the attack, plummeting his Knightmare into a steep descent until he could match the height and speed with which she fell. His cockpit block opened, and bracing himself with a knee and one hand, he reached out towards her falling form, Shinkirou slowly closing the distance between them. "I understand, C.C.!" he shouted over the clamor of crumbling rock, "Your Geass, your true wish!" She didn't react, twirling upside down in a slow rotation, her amber eyes blank as Shinkirou glided ever closer, she now almost within his grasp. "Hey, look at me!" Reaching out, Lelouch somehow caught her wrist. But with that touch the world went dark.

When he regained his senses, he found himself kneeling on a lush red carpet before a pair of immense stone doors, veined with glowing purple and marked with the sigil of Geass in red at their center. C.C. lay supine on the floor, still unconscious. He bent over her, one arm scooping her up around the shoulders while the hand of the other hand supported her neck. "We're back now, C.C.," he said gently, tilting her face toward him. He heard her moan. "Snap out of it." Slowly, her eyelids slid open, but when her amber eyes focused on his, they went wide, showing whites all around. "I've contacted Rolo. I'll use him right away to-" Abruptly C.C. pushed away from him, scampering back on her hands and heels, one arm drawing protectively up in front of her chest.

"Umm, who might you be?" Her voice seemed somehow different from the usual husky timbre with which she spoke. And she looked frightened – no, not just frightened. Absolutely terrified.

Lelouch's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?" He sat back on his heels. "Anyway, about the Emperor and that system - " She interrupted him.

"Are you my new master?" What? Lelouch blinked in surprise, not sure if he was hearing her correctly. She continued, her body trembling, voice meek, golden eyes downcast. "My skills include cooking and cleaning, carrying water buckets, taking care of livestock, sewing... I can read just a little, and I can count to twenty." Risking a tentative glance, she dropped her gaze to the floor upon seeing his stunned, wide-eyed stare. "Ah," she added, as if to appease him, "I've also cleaned dead bodies before..."

He couldn't believe it. Somehow, be it a result of what his father had almost done to her, or as a consequence of destroying the Sword of Akasha, or something else entirely, she had lost her memories. The C.C. he knew was gone, lost, perhaps forever. And with the brutal, crushing verity of that truth, he finally realized that some part of him had loved her. "Master," she asked hesitantly, yellow eyes peering carefully up at him, "…why are you crying? Could it be that you aren't pleased with me?" Lelouch found himself at an utter loss for words.

End Chapter 4


	5. Consort

Standard Disclaimer: Code Geass and its characters are not my property, etc. If you're offended by explicit, mature themes, then read on and let me try to change your mind. 18+ please.

Timeline Note: This chapter is a direct continuation of Ch4. It thus includes the events of R2, Episodes 16 and 17.

Author's Note: As with the previous chapters, most of the canon scenes (especially in Ep 17) will remain unchanged, and therefore, to avoid being repetitive, they will be omitted in the usual style. Unfortunately, this makes for scene changes that aren't exactly smooth, so just bear with me. Oh – no H-scene in this one. Sorry folks.

* * *

**The Castaway Prince – A Code Geass Lemon Fanfiction by Clockmaker411**

Chapter 5 – Consort

"M-, m-, m-, monster!" she shrieked, flinging out a black-sleeved arm to point while the other remained drawn protectively inward, close to her chest, her head turned away and her eyelids screwed shut in fright.

Blinking, Lelouch looked back over his shoulder, the tears that lingered in the corners of his eyes now rolling unnoticed down his cheeks as his gaze followed the line marked by C.C.'s quivering index finger. It was Shinkirou, of course, its glossy black and gold armor appearing lustrous even in the pervasive, purplish light cast off by the immense Door of Twilight before which it knelt. But to C.C., with her memories forgotten, it must have seemed a creature out of nightmares, sinister in the way the white, almost skeletal face peered out from beneath its golden brow and the glassy midnight dome of its forehead.

"No, it's not. Don't be afraid." Although his voice was meant to be reassuring, crestfallen as he was Lelouch thought it sounded more apathetic than anything else. "It's just a machine. I control it." He turned his attention back to the still startled green-haired young woman. She was sitting on her bottom with her legs drawn up slightly at the knee, her heels on the carpeted floor – the visible tightness of her body suggested that at any provocation she might very well scramble backward to the stone door behind her. But her eyes were open, at least, those yellow irises shifting uneasily between Lelouch and the crouching Knightmare, as if considering what to fear more – the massive, menacing beast, or the man who was its master.

"A machine…?" she asked hesitantly, her features still trembling as her stare settled on him.

"Ah – of course," he muttered to himself in realization, "you don't know about that yet." The C.C. he remembered was gone, and in her place was a girl who knew nearly nothing about this world and was clearly terrified at what little she had seen. He had been through such a situation once in the past, after being caught in the middle of the Black Knights' attack on Babel Tower. He couldn't help but feel empathy for her – he knew what it was like to be helpless and afraid, incapable of doing anything to save one's own life. If only so simple a thing as a kiss could solve this predicament as well. Lelouch corrected himself. Twice he had suffered through that overbearing sense of dread – of futility in affecting his fate. Both those times, C.C. had come to his rescue. And she had saved him in numerous other instances as well.

A flush of red touched his cheeks. He would mourn for the C.C. he knew, whom some part of him had loved, when the moment was right. But for now, he owed it to her to at least try and assuage this girl's fears – to make her feel a little less alone in this world. Slowly Lelouch rose to his feet, making his movements smooth and deliberate, as to not frighten her further. "Think of it as a carriage, or a warhorse. We ride in it." Upon seeing her expression change to one of stark terror, he added quickly, "But it's not alive – it can't hurt you." Palm upturned, he offered her his hand. "Don't be afraid." That time, the voice did sound sincere – a voice that was low, quiet, and soothing. Reassuring. "It'll be all right." A slight half-smile touched his lips, even if it didn't reach his eyes.

The softly spoken words had the desired effect, and visibly, she stilled, her gaze lingering on his features, almost as if weighing the authenticity of his intent. Her attention shifted briefly to the proffered hand, but when she hesitantly joined it with her own, she was peering into his eyes, seeming to measure his character with a single, direct look, one made unnerving by the intensity of those glimmering yellow irises. Lelouch helped her to her feet, retaining his hold on her as she regained her balance on weakened knees. He could feel the slight moisture of perspiration on her palm, even amid the uncomfortable cold of the lowest level in the Order's cavern city.

"We… ride… in it?" The worry in her tone matched the expression in her countenance as she looked up at him, her delicate brow furrowed, clearly daunted by the idea. "Master, I don't think I–" Abruptly, as if realizing her station, she released his hand, her head bowing and gaze lowering to the carpeted floor. "I'm sorry, Master," she apologized in a small voice, her eyes lifting only as much as needed to stare at the slightly curled fingers of the hand he had held. "If it is your wish, then I must…." Falling silent, C.C. began to chew on her lower lip. Lelouch noticed that her bare shoulders had again started to quiver.

"We don't have any other choice," he said by way of brisk explanation, his thoughts leaving the frightened woman before him to consider the larger issues at hand. "After our rendezvous with Rolo and Jeremiah, we need to be on our way back to the Ikaruga," he paused, pursing his lips, before adding, "...and I'll have to send someone to pick up your Akatsuki." Refocusing his attention on C.C., Lelouch chided himself when he saw the perplexed look on her face. Gently he laid a hand on her trembling left shoulder, his eyes flicking pointedly to the red sigil on the Door of Twilight and then back to her. "This place is dangerous, C.C. – I'm taking you back to my ship, where you'll be safe." Slender fingers gave her shoulder a light squeeze. "You may not remember, but you and I were allies, once. Will you trust me now?" She didn't answer immediately, instead remaining silent for a moment, though his light touch on her shoulder seemed to calm her a bit and stop her shaking. At last, she nodded, if hesitantly, head still bowed, eyes meeting his briefly through the dark curtain of thick eyelashes. "Thank you," he murmured softly, allowing his arm to fall back to his side.

Saying nothing more, Lelouch stood before her, his violet eyes contemplative. It was strange, seeing her like this, her behavior now so drastically different from the habits and mannerisms to which he had grown accustomed in all the time spent beside her. C.C., with her golden, knowing eyes, had always been full of an aloof confidence, of an airy nonchalance that had often irked him in its imperturbability, especially when coupled with the way she constantly asked penetrating, pointed questions, cutting to the heart of the matter by abandoning the pretense of subtlety. There were only a handful of occasions when he had seen her worried or concerned, and he couldn't recall a single instance of C.C. being truly afraid.

But now, the face that had so often worn a mask of unruffled indifference was alive with emotion, as if the floodgate of restraint had been released – or in this case, had never been constructed. Fear predominated, of course – a kind of lingering terror held barely in check, but there was also awe – an innocent wonder at all the things new to her, and there was uncertainty, flickering across her visage whenever her gaze shifted to Lelouch – a sense of suspicion at the unexpected kindness that he had shown her. Having to reconcile this frightened young woman, little more than a girl, really, with the C.C. he had known was… disorienting. This was the girl who C.C. had been before Geass, before her experiences as an immortal witch had shaped her into the woman he had known. No – that wasn't quite right, either. C.C. herself had no memory of her life prior to becoming immortal; this girl, then, was no part of the C.C. he knew, aside from sharing the same body.

"Master," she murmured quietly, shifting her weight to her other foot, "…please, don't look at me like that." Her arms had crossed beneath her breasts, fingers clutching at her sleeves at the elbow, as she looked down and off to one side, offering him her profile. He could see a deep red blush in her cheeks, marking a vivid contrast against the pale alabaster of her skin. Lost in thought, Lelouch hadn't realized that he had been staring.

"Sorry," he said, clearing his throat. "I was just – well, forget about it." Wetting his lips, he turned, looking at the kneeling Shinkirou now in front of him. "We should get moving," he said to her over his shoulder as he started walking toward the Knightmare frame, glancing back to make certain that she followed. And she did – a measured two paces behind.

Ducking beneath one of the four red projections on Shinkirou's back that formed its float system, Lelouch stopped, waiting, until she stood beside him. With a sidelong glance to her, making sure she was attentive, he gestured toward the thin metal cable of the lift line, ending in a triangular foothold. "Just put your foot in the stirrup at the bottom," he said, indicating it with flicker of his hand, "then hold onto the cable. Once you put your weight on it, it'll activate to pull you up." She still looked worried. "Here, I'll show you. It's easy – you'll see."

Even before his leg was settled in the stirrup, he felt a tug on the black sleeve of his school uniform. C.C. had it clutched tightly in the fingers of her right hand. She bit her lower lip, those polished amber irises tentatively lifting to his violet before dropping to again stare at the stone floor. "Master," she said softly, uncertainly, "could we perhaps…" she trailed off, reddening visibly as she finished, in a small voice, "…could we go together?" Her gaze flicked back up at him, shyly holding his eyes.

He eased her concern with a small smile. "If you'd prefer." Sliding his foot to one side of the foothold, he motioned toward the freed space with a nod of his head. "Stand on the other side, facing me, and put your foot there." She complied, her gold-tipped white boot joining his black leather shoe in the triangular stirrup, as her hand held the lift cable, just beneath his. "Whenever you're ready."

Steeling herself visibly, C.C. peered at him for the briefest moment before pushing herself up using her foot in the stirrup and straightening her leg to stand; Lelouch followed suit quickly after, bringing him very close to the now blushing green-haired young woman. With a jolt, the cable began to retract, lifting the two of them slowly toward Shinkirou's opened cockpit block above.

The abrupt movement must have caught C.C. off-guard, as her free arm slid beneath his, clinging to him tightly just below his shoulder blades; sharing the same footing, their bodies already close together, the arm around his chest made the line of her body press flush against him. How many times in the past had he held her like this – been this close to her? Conflicted as he was between his memories of her former self and the woman she was now, this, at least, felt familiar – it felt right. To his slight dismay, Lelouch found his own hand moving to hold her at the small of her back. He didn't deny her when her head nestled into the curve of his throat – it meant that she wouldn't see him blush.

* * *

It was late into the evening when they were at last fully settled into his quarters aboard the Ikaruga. Upon resurfacing in the rocky desert beneath which the city of the Order had lain, he had found that the sun was just touching the horizon to the west, the sky in which it dwelt already red, orange, and yellow with impending dusk. Apparently the Sword of Akasha, in addition to interfering with thought, also altered one's perception of time; what seemed to him only forty-five minutes had been, in reality, just over four hours. At least the lost time had given Rolo and Jeremiah ample opportunity to carry out his orders in his absence; by the time he had reestablished communications with his subordinates, all the bodies had been cleared away and Rakshata was already well into her salvage operation of the Siegfried.

The flight back in Shinkirou hadn't been as uncomfortable as Lelouch had first expected. The cockpit of his Knightmare was large enough that C.C. was able to kneel at his side, as opposed to sitting on his lap, which she may have had to do were they in an Akatsuki. There had, of course, been that long moment of awkwardness in the beginning, when he had needed to change back into his attire as Zero – during which she had her head turned away and her reddened face covered by her hands. Lelouch surmised that her embarrassment had worked in his favor, in that it helped her forget about her initial fears of traveling in Shinkirou.

After that, they had spoken little, Lelouch occupied by his own thoughts. His main concern was determining whether or not the Emperor had managed to find a way back from the alternate world that housed the Sword of Akasha. If he had, then Nunnally would be at risk – with his identity as Zero exposed, Lelouch had no illusions that his father would refrain from using Nunnally against him. There was only to hope that somehow, Charles was still trapped inside – otherwise he would have no other choice but to move on Tokyo prematurely, in order to guarantee Nunnally's safety. A small movement against his leg had brought Lelouch out of his silent contemplation. When he glanced down, he saw that C.C. had fallen asleep, her cheek pressed to the side of his knee.

"Master…?" came her soft voice from the lounge, interrupting the memory and calling his attention back to the present. He swiveled his armchair away from the walls of view screens in front of him, their main screen dominated by a large map of the world that was flanked by smaller, detailed information panels. He had been idly studying that map for the last half hour, pondering whether the halted Britannian advance in areas still under dispute was, in fact, a significant indication of Charles' absence. It was still too early to tell.

"What is it?" His violet eyes fell on the figure of C.C., standing in a doorway flanked by tall bookshelves to either side. She still wore the gold-trimmed black dress he had designed for her, its high-necked, sleeveless bodice quite snug around her upper body, displaying prominently the light blue insignia of the Order of the Black Knights across her chest. The dress flared out in a skirt of four divided tails falling to her ankles, but not quite hiding the high-cut white shorts beneath. Black sleeves covered her from her wrist to her upper arm, leaving the shoulder bare, the sleeves held up by leather straps and golden buckles made to match the tripled belt slung loosely over her hips. Thigh length high-heeled white boots accented with gold completed the outfit.

It was strange to see her fully clothed – in the sense that the old C.C., when staying in his quarters, usually shed the black dress and boots, preferring to lounge in just the white shorts and sleeveless top. But it wasn't just that – there was something else, something about her that struck him as odd, but something that he couldn't quite place. Nor was it simply her change in demeanor, she now blushing, her eyes lowered to look at the floor. His own complexion reddened – he had been staring again. Clearing his throat, Lelouch lifted his gaze back up to her face. "Yes…?"

C.C. shifted nervously on her feet, her golden eyes flickering tentatively to regard him. "Will you be retiring for the night?" Hands clutching the split fabric of her skirts, she waited for his reply. Lelouch didn't understand why she was now acting so nervous. He dismissed the thought.

"I'll stay up for a little while longer." She nodded, and the grip of her fingers on the skirt seemed to loosen. "But you must be exhausted – you should get some rest." A casual flick of his wrist indicated her outfit. "Just remember to hang up your clothes before you go to bed. You wouldn't want them to wrinkle." At that, she stiffened, hands releasing their hold on her skirts and smoothing them quickly, her cheeks flaring with color.

"If that is your command, Master," she said in a weak voice, "…then I have no choice but to obey." The blush was effusive in her face, spreading from her neck all the way to the roots of her hair. Lelouch thought that was strange – surely his request hadn't been that demanding. But that said, the old C.C. never hung up her clothes – she always expected him to pick up after her. Chuckling a bit at the thought, Lelouch nodded absently to her and turned back to the glowing screens set into the three walls behind him. Quiet footfalls on the carpeted floor signaled C.C.'s departure.

About an hour had passed when Lelouch finally dimmed the monitors, rubbing his tired eyes with the thumb and middle finger of one hand. As he had expected, it was still too soon to arrive at any clear conclusions regarding the cessation in troop movements on the western fringes of the Chinese Federation – in those territories bordering Britannian-occupied E.U. nations. He stretched, then winced. His back ached from when his father had thrown him down the wide oval steps leading to the main dais of the Sword of Akasha. The adrenaline that had numbed the sensation before was now long expended, allowing the pain to resurface with renewed vigor. Testing the injury, Lelouch carefully rolled his shoulders, barely suppressing the grimace that followed. He forced himself to his feet, if wearily. The bruises would serve as a reminder to never let down his guard, especially in the face of what seemed like certain victory.

Walking slowly back into the lounge, Lelouch began to casually undress – until his throbbing back chided him into being more careful. He started with the black gloves, pairing and folding them at the wrist, then tucking them into a dresser drawer, and then moved onto his gold-trimmed navy blue coat, edging it laboriously off of his shoulders and placing it on a hanger next to C.C.'s black dress. The lavender vest followed on a separate hanger, around which he looped the white lace cravat that billowed at his throat.

His fingers were working on the last few buttons of the white shirt he wore beneath it all when he noticed faint light coming from under the sliding door leading to his quarters. That puzzled him – surely by now, C.C. would be asleep. He had shown her how to dim the lights using the control panel at the bedside, but perhaps she had forgotten? Narrowing his eyes, Lelouch went to stand beside the door, stopping his hand just short of pressing the key to open it. Instead, he knocked, calling out softly. "C.C.?" Pausing, he strained his ears to listen.

"Yes, Master," came her quiet, hesitant reply from the other side, "…please, come in." Hey keyed the door and it slid smoothly aside with a soft hiss. When his gaze fell to her, he froze, his eyes going wide and his mouth hanging open in shock. She was lying supine on the bed, on top of the sheets, completely naked, her flawless, alabaster skin a sharp contrast to the silken green swaths of hair fanned out beneath her. Golden eyes stared up at the ceiling, unseeing, as if resigned to embrace a fate that she was powerless to change. Her slim arms lay to either side of her, a few inches away from bare outer thighs, palms face up – the pose seemed to convey a sense of helpless surrender – of defenseless vulnerability. "I... I know what masters do to their female slaves, when they come of age." Her voice sounded wooden – a tone that suited the distant look in her eyes. "I don't want to be beaten." She turned her head away from him, her last whispered words so quiet that he doubted whether he had actually heard her speak. "I… won't… resist you."

Regaining himself, Lelouch averted his eyes, one hand reaching out and groping for the control panel to switch off the ceiling light. The room plunged into darkness as he found it, though the afterimage of her body's contours still burned in his mind, making his cheeks heat with its memory. "C.C.," he said in a voice whose steadiness surprised him, he standing silhouetted by the light from the lounge, "I will never ask… that, of you." He cleared his throat. "Nor will I harm you in any way. You have my word."

The quiet whisper of fabric betrayed her movement as she sat up in the bed, her arms propping herself up slightly behind her. "I don't understand," she said quizzically, "you ordered me to take off my clothes, so I thought…." Her voice died out, and in the dim light cast by the lounge, Lelouch thought he saw her arms cross protectively across her breasts.

His face reddened. "I didn't mean it that way," he said in embarrassed explanation. So that was why she had been so reticent. He had been so engrossed in other matters that he had ignored the oddity of her behavior, attributing it to her general apprehension instead. "I'm sorry." He turned away as if to leave.

"Wait –!" The desperate urgency in her voice gave him pause, and he glanced back over his shoulder. "I feel so foolish…" C.C. mumbled abashedly, as if to apologize for the outburst. "Please, Master," she continued, her voice taking on a pleading tone, "…may I have something to wear?"

"Of course," he conceded quickly, "I'll get your clothes." She stopped him again, before he could step out into the lounge.

"That's not necessary," was her hasty reply. He waited, regarding her from the corner of one eye, barely making out her figure amidst the near darkness of the room. "If you don't mind, Master," she continued, her voice uncertain, "…may I borrow your shirt?" When he didn't answer right away, she sputtered an apology, her words stumbling over one another in a breathy torrent. "If that's too much – if I've asked something inappropriate – I just thought that since mine were folded and yours, well – I, I…"

"No," he interrupted her quietly, "…it's all right." Shrugging his shoulders and wincing at the ache in his back, Lelouch shed the shirt, taking it in one hand and holding it out to her, his face turned to look into the lounge. The shifting of sheets on the bed, followed by the padding of her bare feet on the floor, signaled her approach, C.C. taking the proffered article with a brush of her fingertips along his hand.

It must have been his imagination, something inspired by the knowledge of her so close, but Lelouch thought that he could feel the warmth of her body against his skin – an intoxicating heat whose familiarity summoned to the forefront of his mind the vivid memories of being together with her. One image surpassed them all – C.C., curled up naked on his bed back at Ashford Academy, one hand clutching his black school uniform to her chest while the other worked desperately between her thighs, slim fingers parting glistening pink lips and invading again and again, stroking and teasing, until she at last reached her final, shuddering climax. Wetting suddenly dry lips, Lelouch could feel the blood rushing into his face.

"Thank you," she murmured, bringing him back out of his thoughts. He realized then that the soft rustle of clothing as she donned the shirt had, for a time now, been replaced by silence. Clearing his throat, he turned slightly to look at her, then let his gaze slide off to one side. She had left most of the upper buttons undone, exposing the creamy skin of the upper slopes of her cleavage. He swallowed, but somehow his voice was clear and steady when he spoke.

"You should stay here – I'll be in the lounge. If you need anything, just let me know." Glancing at her sidelong, Lelouch saw her nod in acquiescence, to which he offered a tight smile in return. "Sleep well." And with that, he stepped out of the bedroom, his bare chest now fully enveloped by the ambient light of the lounge.

A sharp gasp from behind him gave him pause, stopping Lelouch in mid-stride. "Master!" she exclaimed, a thread of panic rising in her voice, "Your back…! What happened to your back?!" He heard her come closer, the movement accompanied by that lingering warmth beckoning him more suggestively than any heady perfume. And then he felt her fingertips on his skin, the touch light and feathery, gently tracing the wide bands of bluish-red that mottled his flesh.

"It's nothing, really – I fell down a few stairs, that's all." Looking over his shoulder, Lelouch was surprised to see her amber eyes wide as they stared up at him, rimmed at the edges with unshed tears. Such an expression of open, frightened concern was not one he had seen often from C.C. – if at all. "Really, I'm fine," he repeated, trying to sound convincing, disarming. "You don't have to worry."

Her focus shifted, looking now at his shoulder, and she seemed flustered when she spoke. "And this…?" Lelouch thought he saw color bloom in her cheeks as her right hand lifted, its index finger drawing a small circle over a round, purple bruise on the meat of his shoulder, where it met his neck. His own face turned crimson as he remembered how that bite had gotten there; at least the claw marks that her former self had left on his back had now faded. She seemed to sense his reluctance, choosing to speak up instead, her gaze earnest as it met his once again. "Master – is there anything I can do? Anything at all?" He hesitated, his lips parting as if to speak, but holding back. "Please…?"

Lelouch sighed heavily, relenting with a nod. "All right." He lifted a hand, gesturing toward the door on the far right of the lounge. "In the bathroom, in the medicine cabinet, there's a jar of ointment. Top shelf, third jar from the left – with the blue lid." She nodded, beaming, then strode quickly to the door he had indicated, disappearing behind it as it opened with a hiss. Watching as she walked, the color in his face flared again. His shirts had always looked scandalously good on her, covering her just enough to suggest that the slightest misstep might reveal the lush curves that they only barely kept covered.

Taking a seat on one of the long benches flanking the low, central table of the lounge, Lelouch turned his thoughts elsewhere, a thumb and forefinger rubbing his temples and shading his eyes. Rationally, he should have refused her help, in order to distance himself from her; in her situation it would be only natural to become attached to her master, on whom she depended wholly, and above all, who had shown her kindness. But he could not find it within himself to deny her that small amount of companionship, of connection to another human being, in a world in which she was otherwise so utterly alone.

He knew that that was in part because of his lingering feelings for C.C., which he inadvertently projected onto the girl who now occupied her body – the girl who C.C. had been, before ever being exposed to Geass. But it wasn't just that – who she was now, the girl herself, had swayed his decision. He was touched by the open sincerity and earnestness she had expressed – a trait so uncharacteristic of the C.C. he had known. And when she had reached out, trying to embrace the familiar concept of a slave helping her master, in an otherwise alien life, Lelouch found himself unable to refuse her. To do so might upset the already unsteady foundations of her fragile reality – it would be akin to removing her sense of purpose, the pillar of support around which she could organize the remainder of her newfound world. That, too, had been the reason why he hadn't disabused her of the notion of he being her master – it was a central tenet from which she could draw an invaluable measure of security.

Lelouch gave a start when he felt her fingers on his back; immediately, she withdrew her hand, stammering out an abrupt apology. "I'm sorry! Master – did I hurt you? I was trying to be gentle…" her voice fell quiet in uncertainty.

"No, you're doing fine – you just surprised me, that's all." He had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed when she had returned. Looking at her over his shoulder, he offered her a slight smile. "Please, continue."

Reluctantly, she nodded, C.C. chewing her lower lip as she dipped her fingertips into the small jar of ointment held in the opposite hand. With a timid touch, she began to apply the salve, working it into the reddish blue bruises in small, light circles. The ointment was cool and soothing on his skin, and the hypnotic rhythm with which she applied it helped to lull him into a state of peaceful relaxation. Lelouch didn't know how much time had passed, but after she had finished, he heard her set down the jar, the glass clinking audibly against the metal of the bench. And then he froze as he felt her arms slip around his bare torso, their gentle embrace followed a moment later by the press of her cheek on the nape of his neck. "I'm sorry, Master," she murmured in a quiet voice, her breath warm along his skin.

"For what…?" Lelouch remained still, focusing all his efforts in steadying his breathing – a difficult task considering the persistent thought that only a single layer of filmy fabric was separating her flesh from his.

Her answer was a short while in coming. "Your bruises… they're fresh, aren't they?" A short nod of affirmation was his only reply, his brows drawing down as he considered her direction. "Then that means you got them while saving me, did you not?" He blinked at that – it wasn't quite true, certainly, but he didn't see what harm would come by letting her believe such a thing. Telling her otherwise would seem… callous. "I'm sorry that I was the cause for such pain." Rather than reaffirming her conjecture, Lelouch simply laid his hand atop of hers. She seemed to take comfort in the light touch.

"Master," she said hesitantly, "…will you stay in the bed with me tonight?" Dumbfounded, he said nothing, letting her blurted explanation filled the silence that followed. "Not like that –! I just thought, with your back as it is, these metal benches can only make it worse – you need a bed, Master – and I would feel horrible if I had such a big bed to myself and you were out here suffering because of me…." Her hold tightened around his chest.

"C.C., I don't think that's –" he stopped in mid-sentence when he heard her sniffle into the back of his neck.

"Please, Master?" It was a small, pleading voice, full of desperation – a breathless whisper on the edge of tears. "I, …I don't want to be alone." He could feel the tenseness in her body as she held onto him, her arms stiff and still, the anxiety palpable as she awaited any word or gesture of assent or refusal.

Lelouch wet his lips, those violet eyes glancing down at the white-sleeved arms clutched about his middle. His right hand, still overlaid on her own, gave her a gentle squeeze. "All right." He remained quiet as she wept, her shed tears warm and moist on his skin, and the small, muffled sobs the only sounds amidst the quiet of the night.

* * *

"Master, is she… your… your… woman?" Lelouch's gaze swiveled away from Kallen, who's face was now blushing a furious red to match the color of her hair, and back to C.C., she half-hidden behind a closet door at the far side of the lounge, her green tresses spilling over the mostly undone white shirt she still wore. Before he could reply, Kallen broke in abruptly, drawing back his attention.

"Master?!" she barked in indignant disbelief, leveling a glare at him, those sea blue eyes looking nothing more like cobalt blue augurs, pinning him to where he stood. Whatever embarrassment had taken her previously was gone, now replaced by a sudden flare of anger. "Lelouch," she growled in a low, menacing voice, "I wanted you to explain things to her, not start some kind of perverted –"

He had heard enough. "Kallen," he interrupted in a quiet but firm voice, whose somberness managed to cut off her tirade, "It's not what you think." Wearily, he lifted his hand in a gesture toward C.C. "She's lost her memories. The C.C. that you know is gone." Kallen blinked, turning her attention back to the woman across the room.

"She's gone…?" she said softly to herself in disbelief, her blue eyes gliding over the familiar features of the face peering out at her from behind the closet door.

"Yes." Stepping forward, his long cape flowing black and red behind him, Lelouch took Kallen's upper arm in one hand, his other holding the black, domed mask of Zero. "Stay here," he said over his shoulder, to C.C., "I'll be back in a little while."

"Yes, Master," she replied meekly, then added, with no small amount of worry in her voice, "Does this mean you won't be sleeping with me tonight…?" He reddened at the question, giving C.C. a look that clearly conveyed his intent to discuss the matter at a later time.

"I think you have quite a bit of explaining to do," Kallen grumbled under her breath, letting him lead her back through the door by which she had entered only moments ago. It slid shut behind her, leaving the two of them alone in the intervening space between his quarters and the outer corridor. They stood apart for a moment, he still holding her arm with one gloved hand, his eyes tracing features framed by soft red light glowing red from the inset illumination strips running along the angled ceiling. And then Lelouch embraced her, drawing her into the enshrouding circle of his black cape, the mask that had been tucked beneath one arm now falling to the floor with the hollow echo of polymer on metal.

She resisted at first, perhaps in an attempt to maintain some remnant of anger toward him, but after a few moments, she relented, relaxing into his arms and allowing her own to encircle his waist, slipping beneath the flowing cape draped over his shoulders. "I missed you," she mumbled into the white cravat at his throat. Then she pushed away slightly to look up at him, the scowl on her features losing some of its edge when taken in alongside the clear affection in her sea blue eyes. "Don't you go thinking you're off the hook, Lelouch, just because–"

"I know," he interrupted gently, his gloved hand lifting to lightly tuck an errant lock of red hair back behind her ear. "I missed you too." She let him cradle her head to the side of his neck, and they stood unspeaking for a few moments, content in one another's arms. It was she who finally broke the silence, her voice tentative.

"What are you going to do about her, Lelouch?" Leaning back a bit, she peered up at him, her azure irises holding a barely restrained curiosity, and something else – something that looked like a glimmering trace of hope.

He furrowed his brow. "She'll have to stay confined to my quarters, clearly. With the way she is now, it'd cause a great deal of… misunderstanding, were she to wander about." A soft sigh left his lips, and he shook his head resignedly. "Other than that… there's really nothing I can do, I'm afraid to say. I don't know how she lost her memories, or if there's a way for her to get them back." The laugh that followed was low and dark, sardonic, caustically regretful. "I may even have destroyed the one place that could have helped her."

"That's not what I meant." He thought he knew what she was getting at, and gave her reluctant nod. Moving closer once again, Kallen laid her head against his shoulder, and when she spoke her words were gentle, but insistent, as if trying to delicately convey a point. "She's gone, Lelouch – the C.C. who you loved. That girl in there… she's not the same person." Moving back slightly to face him, Kallen's deep blue eyes regarded his dark violet, her stare intent – direct. "You can't let your feelings for the old C.C. influence the way you treat her as she is now."

"It isn't that simple." The sharpness in his reply surprised him somewhat, his voice having taken an overly defensive tone. He cleared his throat, then forced himself to draw a slow, steadying breath through his nose. When he continued, his demeanor had changed, his words a quiet, solemn confession. "That night, after you asked me to explain things to her… she and I had… a falling out." It had of course been more than that, but he felt it wise to keep the details to a minimum – especially those pertaining to what had preceded the argument. "She must have hated me for it," he continued, a bitter smile tightening the line of his lips, "and yet, at the very end… what she did most likely saved my life." Black hair tousling as he wryly shook his head, Lelouch's dark violet eyes were distant, staring off to one side, yet seeing farther than the metal walls of the corridor. "And now, she's gone… and I never even told her how I felt."

Kallen's slim arms tightened around his middle, causing him to glance back down at her; as their eyes met, she lowered her gaze, those blue irises hidden by a fan of thick lashes. Her voice came in an even, measured tone – quiet and careful, as if uncertain as to whether she was overstepping her bounds, but determined to continue nonetheless. "I can understand that you feel responsible for her, Lelouch," she paused, then tentatively tilted her face to look up at him, "but don't you think you're being a bit… overindulgent?" His lips pursed, compressing into a fine line. He knew she was right, of course – he had admitted it to himself enough – but he remained silent, prompting her to push the point. "That was your shirt she was wearing, wasn't it?" Her lashes again lowered as she added quietly, "…and was it really necessary to sleep with her?"

The heat rising in his face, Lelouch spoke up quickly, defensively. "It's not like that – nothing happened between us – we just slept in the same bed." Well, that was mostly the truth. He felt her arms, still encircling him, relax a little, her hands lightly stroking his back.

"I know," she said softly, offering him a reassuring smile, "You're not the sort of person who would take advantage of a girl in that kind of situation." The words were spoken kindly, not as a reminder, but as a simple statement about his character. It brought a half-hearted smile of gratitude to his lips, but this time, it was he who broke her gaze, glancing off to the side. C.C. had tossed and turned in her fitful sleep, but had finally calmed down when her arm slipped around his chest, the front of her body pressed close to the back of his. He had woken when she had done it, and he hadn't encouraged it, but neither had he acted to prevent it.

Taking a step back, Kallen's hands moved to his chest, her fingers busying themselves with smoothing the gold-trimmed black folds of his cape. "Even so," she went on, "it's clear that she's growing very attached to you – very fond of you. I can't really blame her." Her hands stilled. "But by being… overindulgent, you won't just be hurting her; you'll be hurting yourself." She paused, drawing a deep breath, before saying with a solemn finality, "She can never be the woman you want her to be, the woman you loved. Things will be easier after you accept it." Light fingertips glided along the draping fabric of his cape, then up past the white froth of his scarf, until her hands held the sides of his face, gently turning his head back to look at her. Her whisper was quiet in the interim space of the connecting corridor, separating his quarters and C.C. from the rest of the outside world. "You have to let her go."

Her words struck a familiar chord within him, and, resounding, it brought back a distinct memory, flooding into his mind in startling clarity. It was C.C., standing with her back to him by the doorway in his room at Ashford Academy, dressed only in the white shirt that was part of his school uniform – similar to the shirt she wore now in his quarters. "Forget about her, Lelouch," she had said gently over her shoulder, "You and I have a pact. In the end, it can be only you and I. It will be easier for you once you realize that." But she had been wrong, if that had even been what she was after in the first place. Had it all been just a ploy – a ruse so that he might one day fulfill her wish to die? No, he wouldn't believe that. In her eyes, he had rejected her, and she must have felt that there was nothing left for her but to die. She could have made that choice, she could have ended her life, but instead she had used that chance to save him, and now she was gone. Turning his attention back to the present, Lelouch let out a long sigh, his violet eyes intent as they regarded her clear blue. "All right, Kallen. What would you have me do?"

That azure gaze faltered somewhat, the uncertainty in her countenance coupled with a slight trembling of her hands as they yet cupped his face. Her answering reply was slow in coming, and when it did, her words were breathy and quick, the urgency amounting then at last bursting through the barrier of hesitation that had held it in check, as she said, in a rushed half-question, half-plea, "Spend the night with me, in my quarters…?" He blinked at her, saying nothing, and she reddened, adding a stammering stream of justifications to the suggestion in an equally unsteady voice. "She needs to have some time alone, so she can learn to be more independent! If you're together with her constantly, and you provide everything for her, then of course she's going to become… attached… to you…. At the very least, if she knows you're spending the night with me – if she knows you love someone else…." Her voice sputtered out, leaving the rest unspoken as she bowed her head downward, averting her eyes in order to pointedly study the interlocking metal panels of the floor.

Slipping a black-gloved hand between them, Lelouch cupped her chin, tilting her face upward just enough so that he could lean down, brushing a gentle kiss upon her lips. "Tonight then," he murmured in a quiet, reassuring voice, and she smiled, an expression that was a unique blend of heated embarrassment, overjoyed happiness, and giddy relief. Her arms moved, slinging around his neck, and she drew herself up on tiptoe to kiss him more thoroughly; having apparently thought that the fleeting touch he had bestowed was simply not enough, she deepened her kiss instantly, and Lelouch lost himself in the achingly familiar dance of tender lips and twirling tongues, her mouth warm and sweet, inviting. When she was finally satisfied, he was out of breath, and she, panting, laid her head against his chest, her eyes drifting closed and her arms tightening around his neck to support her on weakened knees.

"I'm sorry," she whispered against his chest after a short while, her eyes still closed. Lelouch craned his head back a bit to regard her. She went on, sensing the unasked question. "For teasing you, the other day." That made him chuckle, and he nodded, lifting a hand to run his fingers through the untamed peaks of her hair, held back only by the black-lined red headband marking former members of the Resistance. "It was hard, wasn't it?"

"Mmhmm. Quite." Glancing up at him, Kallen blushed furiously at the salacious gleam in his dark violet eyes.

"Not that. Pervert." It was a fond admonishment, and she nuzzled her nose into the frothy white scarf at his throat, perhaps in an attempt to cover the burning color in her cheeks. "I meant it must have been frustrating, having her sleeping next to you, and not being able to… well…." Her voice went silent, and despite trying to hide her face, Lelouch could see crimson rising all the way to the roots of her hair. She continued in a halting, timid voice. "Tonight, I'm going to…make up for that…" she paused, lifting her head, and although her embarrassment was plain on her face, her clear blue eyes shone with smoldering heat. "I want to… relieve… all of your tensions," her gaze diverted for a moment, Kallen biting her lip, but when it returned to him, her expression was grippingly intent, matching the steadfastness of her voice. "I'm going to show you, Lelouch, that I can be all that you want – the only woman that you'll ever need."

A slight smile curving into the line of his lips, Lelouch leaned down, lightly kissing her forehead just below the black edge of her red headband. "When you offer yourself like that, how could any man refuse you?"

She pulled away quickly, fixing him with an angry glare. "What kind of evasive answer is that?" Shaking her head, Kallen settled back into the circle of his arms. "Really, Lelouch…" she mumbled reproachfully into the heavy folds of his cape, pressing herself closer so that he felt the lush softness of her body even through the layers of clothing between them. It made him redden. "You'll see," she said again in that quiet but determined timbre, her blush complementing his own.

Stroking her hair, Lelouch considered the girl he held in his arms. Something in the manner with which she clung to him seemed strange, not like her usual self, as if a thread of apprehension inside her made her more possessive than she normally was. He thought he knew why. With a heavy exhale of breath, he let the hand in her hair slip to the side of her neck, coaxing her to look up at him. "Now will you tell me what's bothering you?" Sapphire eyes widened as they stared into glinting amethyst. He gave a wry half-smile, answering the puzzled look. "I don't think you came up here to check on C.C. – you wanted to talk to me about something."

To his surprise, she pushed herself off of him, taking two steps backward, her demeanor changing as her gaze fell away and to the side. "You're right." The reply was soft-spoken and solemn, fitting the delicate cast of features framed by glowing red light from above. But before she said anything else, Kallen bent at the waist, reaching down to scoop up the mask of Zero that had fallen to the floor; she righted it, holding it almost reverently in her fingertips, such that the opaque oval face of the mask was toward him. "Asahina spoke to me, yesterday night." Her attention seemed focused on the object in her hands. "He said he saw bloodstains on the Knightmares that returned from the mission in the desert. But when he asked Kinoshita about it, he wouldn't answer." The tip of her pink tongue slipped out, wetting her lips. "I wouldn't question your decisions, as Zero," she paused, her eyes lifting to meet his own as her arms extended slightly, proffering him the mask, "but I hoped, that as Lelouch, you would tell me what happened." Of course. In the confusion with C.C. following their escape from the Sword of Akasha, he had forgotten to use his Geass to alter the memories of the pilots involved in the massacre of the Order. And the suspicion had spread, the damage done.

Glancing back to her, Lelouch considered how to reply. He didn't answer her directly, but rather with a cryptic statement that made her brow draw down in contemplation. "Long ago, I committed myself to a path of evil. Do you know why?" Her mouth opened, but he cut her off before she could voice a reply. "It was because there was something that I wanted so desperately that I would offer up my morality, my life, even my very soul, if it would mean achieving it." The dark tone of his words resounded eerily in the silence of the convening passageway.

Lelouch's gaze swept down to the gold-accented black helmet held in her hands. "C.C. understood that. I lost more than just a lover when I lost her." Shifting his attention back to her, he saw smoldering jealousy behind her glinting blue irises, interlaced with a thread of anger that only rose when he continued, his voice somber. "She was a companion, a confidante. An accomplice. She knew me better than anyone else ever has." Kallen, clearly irritated at that, opened her mouth to protest, but Lelouch quieted her with a tight-lipped smile. "I tell you this not to upset you, but because it's something you should know, if you meant what you said about being the only woman I'd ever need." At last, his gloved hands cupped the offered helmet, fingertips resting lightly on hers. "Tonight, Kallen, I will confide in you. I will tell you of all the sins that I have committed, for the sake of attaining this mask. And afterward, it will be yours to decide whether I am a man worthy of your love."

A remnant of her former angry protest still shone in her eyes, that sentiment ringing in her voice when she spoke. "Lelouch, nothing you say can change the –" He cut her off sharply.

"Kallen – please, just wait until tonight. I don't want you saying something you may later regret." Pouting slightly, she gave a grudging nod, her hands falling away to rest on her hips in a pose of clear feminine disapproval. Lelouch raised his sheer black half-mask to cover his mouth, hiding a smile, then couched his helmet beneath one arm. "The ratification ceremony for the U.F.N. Charter will begin shortly. Would you wait for me, on the bridge?" She furrowed her brow, leveling a questioning look at him. "There's… an errand I have to take care of." He would need to pick up something from the galley; C.C. hadn't eaten since midmorning of the day before.

"All right," she replied, her voice just a bit suspicious as to his vague intentions. But when she peered up at him, and he gave away nothing, she seemed to dismiss the thought, her demeanor changing to one of demure coyness. "But before I go…." With that, she stepped close, one hand snatching the half-mask and tugging it down while the other slipped behind his head, pulling his lips to hers in a kiss that was anything but shy. The sheer, unadulterated passion with which she kissed him overwhelmed his mind with thoughts only of her, such that he had to remember to remain standing; it was something unique to her, an uncanny ability to make all of his other concerns seem unimportant and trite, amidst the urgency of her presence – from the heady scent of her hair and skin, smelling faintly of lavender, to the intoxicating warmth and tantalizing softness of her body pressed to his, and of course, the aching abandon with which her mouth met his own. Being with her was a kind of refuge for him; when they were together, nothing else seemed to matter. But the kiss was over far too soon, and she was gone, flashing him only a smile smoky with promise. And in the back of his mind, Lelouch dreaded that with his confession to come, his admission of sin, that kiss might be the last she would ever give him.

* * *

Her arm outstretched and fingers splayed, C.C. smiled again as her eyes dreamily followed the lines of the wide, beige band wrapped around the ring finger of her left hand. It was silly, imagining that it meant something – it was just a bandage to help mend the cut on her finger – but Master had given it to her, and because of that, she treasured it.

Thinking about him made her heart flutter, causing a warm flush to suffuse through her cheeks. She knew she was lucky – she had heard told stories of masters who were little more than ugly brutes, men who enjoyed beating their slaves just because it was in their power to do so. Master was nothing like that – he was kind, and considerate, and gentle. When he had lashed out at her, she had been scared, yes, but even that had excited her more than it had frightened her – knowing that her Master could be so passionate – and afterward, he had treated her tenderly, placing the band on her finger. She regarded it again, smiling in thought. And he was handsome – her Master was, perhaps, the most beautiful man she had ever seen, with his thick dark hair and deep violet eyes, captivating her even when his left eye glowed with that strange symbol, as it sometimes did. Whenever he looked at her, those eyes were so intense that she couldn't help but quiver under their gaze – so direct that she felt as if the whole of her was laid bare for him to see.

And he was powerful. A man who commanded metal beasts and owned a ship that sailed through the air must be a king, or at the very least, a prince. She wondered, then, what that would make her – C.C. had no illusions of becoming a queen or princess, but perhaps a prince's consort may not be out of the question. It didn't really matter – she wasn't ambitious. She wouldn't mind if she spent the rest of her life here in this room in the heart of the ship – so long as she spent it with him, eating more delicious things like the food he had brought her that morning… pizza, he had called it?

A sharp knock brought her out of her pleasant daydreams, C.C. swerving her head to stare at the doorway from which it had come. Sitting on the floor with her knees drawn close, she waited, watching silently and hugging the soft yellow pillow with the black felt hat and stitched faced that smelled faintly of the delicious pizza. "C.C.?" called a female voice irritably from the other side – one that she recognized. "It's Kallen. I'm coming in." Her eyes darted to the half-opened closet door to her right. She could hide there, but the other woman clearly expected her to be in the room, and would look for her; having seen her there before, that place would be the first she would check, and C.C. expected she would be none too pleased upon finding her.

Before she could decide either way, the door slid open, revealing the young, red-haired owner of the voice, a scowl painting otherwise pretty features. It wasn't the expression that took her aback – C.C. had expected it, judging by the other woman's tone – but rather, her attire: a red and gray body suit made of a material that looked smoother than the finest leather, and so tight that she doubted she could get more than a finger between the suit and her skin. The fact that it came to points on the shoulders and hips only served to further emphasize the swelling curve of the bust and the narrow taper of the waist, as accentuated as they were already by the snugness of the cut. C.C. briefly pictured what she would look like in such a form-fitting, body-hugging outfit, and the mental image made her blush. But perhaps Master would like it.

"Lelouch," Kallen repeated again, now looming tall above her, her voice sharp, "do you know where he went? Did he say anything to you?" Blinking, golden eyes turned up to meet sea blue, and she realized that she had missed the question the first time. Her face flushed and she edged back on the carpet, dropping her gaze to the yellow pillow in her arms as she stammered a weak apology. C.C. flinched when a black-gloved hand entered her field of vision, but when it didn't strike her, she risked a tentative glimpse up toward the woman standing before her. "I'm sorry," Kallen said with a tight-lipped smile, "it's him I'm angry with, not you." She motioned with her hand once more.

Taking it cautiously, C.C. came to her feet, still clutching the stuffed Cheese-kun plush to her chest. She stood a bit unsteadily in her thigh-length boots, having never worn shoes with such a high heel. Releasing her hold on her, Kallen furrowed a brow. "What happened to your hand?" She gestured to the band-aid wrapped around her finger.

"It's nothing," came C.C.'s quick reply as she folded her hands, tucking them beneath the belly of the half-slumped Cheese-kun in her arms. "You were asking about Master, yes? I'm sorry, but he didn't tell me where he was going – only that he wouldn't be back until tomorrow, at the earliest." Upon hearing that, Kallen, if anything, seemed even more incensed, prompting C.C. to unconsciously take a step back; still, the red-haired woman did nothing but cross her arms beneath her breasts, her teeth gritting audibly as she shook her head in distaste.

"Tomorrow, at the earliest, huh?" she muttered angrily to herself, "That Lelouch…." Her hands tightened their hold on her elbows, until C.C. was sure that her fingers must be digging in quite painfully.

"Mistress, why are you upset with Master?" Startled by the appellation, Kallen stared openly at the green-haired woman, her mouth agape. C.C. misunderstood the sentiment. "I'm sorry," she apologized quickly, her voice as meek as she could make it, "was my question inappropriate…?"

"No, it's not that… just… don't call me 'Mistress'." With a heavy sigh, Kallen sank back into one of the padded benches flanking the low central table of the lounge. At her gestured invitation, C.C. followed suit, taking an awkward seat on the very edge of the bench across from her. As a slave, she wouldn't dare to sit on the same furniture as her Master, by her own accord – truth be told, she much preferred the floor – but she was afraid to refuse the offer. "And you shouldn't call Lelouch 'Master', either." She bit her lip. To her, that was unthinkable – Master was Master, after all. The very thought of addressing him by his first name made a shiver run down her spine, C.C. burying her face into the yielding softness of Cheese-kun to mask her rising blush. She was grateful when Kallen didn't press the subject. "I'm angry with Lelouch because he broke a promise he made to me – a very important promise." Her mood had darkened, thunderheads forming behind those striking blue eyes as they stared off in brooding thought.

Puzzled, C.C.'s brow drew down as she spoke in a quiet, contemplative voice. "I haven't known Master for very long," she began, only to realize that she had again referred to him as "Master" – Kallen, though, didn't notice, and so she continued, "but he doesn't seem to me the kind of man who would give his word lightly." She offered her a reassuring smile – the same smile that Master had used to ease her fears when she had first found herself in his care. "There must have been a reason why… I'm certain he'll explain everything, and apologize properly, when he returns." Kallen's penetrating gaze fixed on her for a long while, as if considering her words; then her expression changed, a warm smile of unspoken thanks softening her features, and C.C. could see at that moment just why her Master found this fiery, red-haired woman so beautiful. She returned the smile, then said in a light voice, "May I ask what it was that he promised you?"

"It's… it's personal…!" Kallen stammered in reply, her cheeks going crimson as her gaze shifted off to the side. Clearly it was an important secret between them, so C.C. didn't inquire further. Part of her was glad that Master had someone with whom he could share such secrets, someone who felt so strongly about him. Someone who could, perhaps, lift the veil of lingering sadness behind his violet eyes – the sentiment that she glimpsed whenever he glanced at her, thinking she wasn't looking. But another part of her was heart-stricken at the revelation – the side of her that ached to be that special someone to Master – to be his confidante, his lover.

A thought came to her then, and she bit her lip, blushing, her golden eyes glancing tentatively at the woman seated across from her. "Kallen," she said hesitantly, "…you would never hurt my Master, would you?" C.C. forced herself to hold the other woman's blue-eyed gaze – this was important.

"No, of course not," she replied, her delicate brow furrowing. "Why do you ask?"

"So it wasn't you, then," she said half to herself, "…it must've been one of the others." Squeezing Cheese-kun in her arms, C.C. let her chin rest atop its head, a small frown shaping the line of her mouth.

"Others? What others? And it wasn't me who what?" Leaning forward in her seat, Kallen's eyes were hard as they looked back to C.C. – an expression demanding answers and brooking no nonsense.

Reddening further, C.C. fidgeted a bit before answering in careful, quiet voice. "Last night, after Master took off his clothes, I saw a strange bruise on his shoulder." Pausing, she wet her lips, giving Kallen a quick glance. "It was a bite." At that, the other woman blushed hotly, her eyes flashing with indignant anger as her mouth opened to speak. C.C. cut her off before she had the chance. "But since it wasn't you, it must've been one of the other women in Master's harem…"

"Harem?!" Kallen blurted out, red-faced and out of breath, "Lelouch doesn't have a harem!" It was C.C.'s turn to be surprised, her gleaming amber eyes going wide.

"He doesn't? But surely someone as powerful and handsome as Master would have dozens of women willing to share his bed, to satisfy his needs…" she paused, bowing her head, color blooming in her cheeks to match that still lingering in Kallen's, "…I admit, he promised never to ask that of me, but when he saw me without my clothes, I could tell that he wanted to…. If he ever did ask, I don't know how anyone could refuse… he's so handsome, after all…." Giggling girlishly, C.C. buried her face into the stuffed plush of Cheese-kun in her arms. "You've lain with him, haven't you?" Unable to get a word in edge-wise, Kallen sputtered uncontrollably, her face going as red as her hair, helpless beneath the volley of questions that assaulted her. "I've never been with a man before… What was it like? Did it hurt? Master was gentle, wasn't he?"

* * *

The taste of dirt still bitter in his mouth, Lelouch grimaced, clenching his jaw and tucking the now folded Ashford Academy uniform back into the compartment beside his seat. Naïve – he had been too naïve, too trusting, to believe that Suzaku would help him save Nunnally, no matter how sincerely he had apologized, how openly he had confessed to his sins. But as always, Lelouch had laid contingency plans to deal with such a situation; both Sayoko and Rolo were in place, ready to move and extract Nunnally at his order. He didn't need Suzaku. He would rely on his own power, his own subordinates, gained through skillful manipulation in donning the mask of Zero, to save his sister.

Lelouch turned his attention to the extended communications panel emerging from above the main console of Shinkirou's cockpit, upon which was displayed the image of a narrow-faced man with dark hair and pointed oval eyeglasses. "Guilford, we shall head to the Tokyo Settlement for now." The power of Geass had again proven its usefulness.

"Yes, your Highness," came the man's prompt reply, his image winking off screen as the display retracted back into the control console.

Floating high above the treetops in his Knightmare, Lelouch's smile was grim as he watched the sun settling on the edge of the horizon. The Kururugi Shrine was now a faint speck off in the distance, but there was still much ground to cover, and it would be nightfall once they reached the Tokyo Settlement. Reaching into his breast pocket, he withdrew the small, ornate remote switch that he favored, shaped like a chess piece – the King. That night, after the entire Tokyo Settlement went dark, the second decisive battle for Tokyo would begin.

End Chapter 5


	6. Knight

Standard Disclaimer: Code Geass and its characters are not my property, etc. If you're offended by explicit, mature themes, then read on and let me try to change your mind. 18+ please.

Timeline Note: This chapter includes material from R2, Episodes 18-19.

Author's Note: It seems like one of the concessions I made to advance the plot in the first chapter has come back to bite me in this one, and in a way that's very integral to the canon series. In my defense, the first chapter was originally meant as a one-shot, but my apologies nonetheless. This chapter is going to be pretty ambitious in terms of covering ground, so please forgive the many scene changes throughout. Oh, no H-scene in this one, sorry.

* * *

**The Castaway Prince – A Code Geass Lemon Fanfiction by Clockmaker411**

Chapter 6 – Knight

"Kallen, eject!" the order came again, its panicked urgency perceptible even through the static noise polluting the communications channel. Clenching her jaw, Kallen tore her attention away from the visage of the violet-eyed young man in the corner of her display, leveling a gaze of blue steel augurs at the purple and white Knightmare Frame that was rapidly filling her screen, closing the distance to her own unit. One of its hands gripped the Slash Harken she had loosed mere seconds ago, using the cable as a lead line to drive the glowing green lance of its right arm straight for her.

Despite how much she struggled, pulling and twisting the control yokes of her Guren, there was nothing she could do to free herself. She had blundered, focusing on their leader, the Vampire of Britannia, while the rest of the Grausam Valkyrie Squadron had surrounded her, pinioning her limbs with their Slash Harkens. Guren's right arm lay useless and shattered, the Radiation Wave having not survived the first clash with Percival's energy drill. Time – if only there were a bit more time, perhaps she could do something…. Gritting her teeth, Kallen was forced to face undeniable reality of her defeat, spearheaded by the pointed, whirring spiral of green just moments away from contact. Angrily she seized the escape release, yanking back on the lever only to be flung forward as the cockpit block jettisoned from the main body of her Knightmare, the latter engulfed by a powerful explosion of blinding yellow flame and scattering debris as the lance found its mark. Warm tears ran unnoticed down the sides of her cheeks as she collected herself, watching the chaos abate, the cockpit block propelling her safely out of harm's way.

It was then that something caught her eye – twin bolts of roiling red and black, passing so close to the arc of her flight that she thought she could feel the heat of their destructive energy even through the shielded walls of her cockpit. Shinkirou had paused in its clash with Tristan to unleash them from the Hadron blasters beneath its wrists, but at the cost of an opening against which it was now hard-pressed to defend.

Kallen had only a fleeting instant to wonder why before being shaken so violently that she had to struggle to keep her seat, having apparently collided with something hard and only barely yielding. Metal groaned, and then screeched, skidding, the shrill sound ringing caustically in her ears as the cockpit block ground to a slow halt. When at last it settled, she took a brief appraisal of her surroundings, and abruptly understood what Lelouch had done.

She found herself in near darkness, relieved only by the dim red glow of emergency illumination panels scattered sparsely along the high walls that flanked her to either side. Out in front, a stark gash of ruined floor marked the path of her landing, lit by dim moonlight stealing in from the broad opening in the wall that her entry had forged. The side of the building was thick, reinforced for defense – cement strengthened by a network of broad alloy beams, now broken and bent awry with her passage. Had Lelouch not weakened the wall with his Hadron blasters, she surely would have been crushed against it like so much scrap metal.

The edge of her hand stung, and Kallen realized she had struck the inside of the enclosing cockpit with the bottom of a tightly clenched fist. Twice; she was supposed to be his bodyguard, and yet it was twice now that he had risked himself to save her, after she had rushed headlong into battle and fallen into the enemy's hands. She gritted her teeth. Twice, yes, but both instances shared the same cause – a cause that had flowing green hair and golden eyes.

But that wasn't quite right, either. She wouldn't allow herself to be jealous of the girl. That was all that she was, in the end, this new C.C. – just a girl, and not the same mysterious young woman who had ensorcelled Lelouch, winning his confidence and eventually sharing both his secrets and his bed. And yet the thought gnawed at her incessantly. There was something about her, perhaps in her almost child-like naïveté, which left Kallen uneasy; the feeling was only compounded by the fact that she found herself liking this slave C.C. far more than she ever had the cynical. Would Lelouch like that, too? What man wouldn't – she, the innocent maid, and he, her protector, her knight?

That she was besotted with him, Kallen had no doubt – even if C.C. herself didn't yet realize the truth of it. The sentiment was obvious in the way she had asked after him, her tone one of breathless excitement, as if torn between the eagerness to know more about him and the embarrassment of voicing her questions aloud. Though in retrospect, the girl had far too much of the former and so precious little of the latter; along with her memories, C.C.'s sense of propriety seemed to have vanished as well, what with the way she pried at the most intimate of details, without even the grace to blush. She had even asked about his… his…. Color bloomed in her cheeks at the thought of it, suffusing her skin with a shade to match her hair.

A burst of static noise nearly made her jump in her seat, but when she glanced down at the display, Kallen was relieved to see that the communications bar onscreen read "Private Channel: Sound Only". She didn't think she could remain straight-faced just at that moment. "Kallen, are you all right?" And despite the graininess of the connection, the sound of the voice – his voice – made her heart beat just a bit faster.

"I'm a little shaken up, but fine." Her eyes shifted back to the gaping hole in the far wall, through which the rest of the night could be seen. Its sky was cloudless, speckled with bright stars outshone by intermittent explosions of yellow and white flame. "And Tristan?"

"Guilford is taking care of it as we speak." He paused, and she heard him clear his throat, the sound followed by the soft tones of key presses barely audible through the audio channel. And then a diagram flickered onto her screen, a detailed blueprint of a building that she recognized at once. "I've sent you a schematic – you should be seeing it now. You're on the fourteenth level of the Government Administration Building; Sayoko is currently on the fifth. I want you to rendezvous with her team and help her find Nunnally."

"Understood." In the silence that followed, Kallen chewed her lower lip, her eyes glancing hesitantly at the yet connected communications channel. They were in the middle of a battle, even if she were no longer an active part of it; she knew that such things should be left for calmer times, and yet…. "Lelouch," she began, in a reedy thin quaver that sounded on the edge of tears, "about Guren, I'm s-" He interrupted her, gently, but firmly.

"It's all right. We'll discuss it later, when the fighting's done." The words were meant to be reassuring, but if anything, they only sparked a flame of anger inside her. She didn't want him to be lenient, not with her, not when the blame lay rightly at her feet. Lelouch had warned her countless times that she had been taking too many risks, overextending herself, throwing her Knightmare recklessly into the fray, heedless of what dangers awaited her. What he hadn't understood was that that was the way she had always fought, using her emotions and passions to spur her into battle. But this time she had lunged right into the enemy's trap, at the cost of her Guren. This time, she had been conflicted; the insecurities remaining after her… discussion… with C.C. had risen to the surface when she had begun to fight, manifesting into an overarching desire to… prove herself. To reaffirm that here, at least, on the battlefield, she was needed – that she was important.

Idly Kallen wondered when her motives had begun to change. In the beginning of their resistance, she had fought for Naoto, her Onii-chan, who had died in their effort to liberate Japan, and then for her mother, so that she could wake from her essentially comatose state and find her son's dream realized. And now…. Those reasons were still there, of course, but had they been overshadowed by a greater drive – a desire to fight for him?

And so, for him to so casually and offhandedly dismiss her failure was a twist to the knife already buried in her side. Was she not the ace of the Order of the Black Knights? Lelouch had relied on her, his Q-1, to counteract the threat posed by Britannia's top pilots, Suzaku being at the forefront; without Kallen in her Guren, could this fight still be won? But most of all, what cut her the deepest, had been the tone in his voice, one that she couldn't help but interpret as… indifference. Anger, frustration, irritation – all these Kallen would have borne silently, but not this cold apathy, this calculated detachment, as if she were just any other chess piece to be forgotten soon after it was taken out of play.

She was about to put words to her displeasure but Lelouch, as if sensing the sentiment, forestalled her. "I didn't forget, Kallen," he said softly, quietly, sounding intimate despite the hiss of static on the communication channel, "…I didn't forget about the promise that I made to you." In just those few words, he somehow managed quell her anger, the feeling replaced by a warmth that made her heart swell in her chest. "Tonight, when this is over, when Nunnally is safe, I–" The line abruptly cut out, leaving not even the hiss of white noise to signal an active link.

Apprehension laced through her, its fingers icy with dread, clutching her so tightly that she could barely draw a breath. Her fears were affirmed when she glanced down to see that his unit, Shinkirou, was currently unreachable. Surely he couldn't be… Lelouch couldn't be…. No, she wouldn't let herself think that. He had to be all right. Another burst of static nearly made her jump. "Zero?" she asked tightly, not daring to hope, but the reply that came was distinctly female.

"I'm sorry, no, Kallen-sama. It's Sayoko." Kallen bit her lip, waiting, bracing herself for the worst, and not comprehending just how the other woman could sound so calm. "I'm communicating with Ougi-san; they've lost contact with Zero-sama. He appears to be engaged in combat with the Knights of Rounds unit, Mordred."

With Anya? Her mind raced, followed not far behind by a quick response, Kallen trying all the while to keep the panic from seeping into her speech. "Sayoko, I have to help him – I have to go to him." How long could Shinkirou stand against the sheer enormity of firepower that was Mordred? It was something that she didn't want to find out. And with her Guren destroyed, the scales, at least in terms of ordnance, favored the Britannian side, what with the new production Gareths and four Knights of Rounds on the field. "You understand, don't you?"

"Yes, of course. You are the only one who can save him, Kallen-sama," the older woman paused, a small trace of a smile inflected in her tone as she added, "…and we've found something that may be of use to you in that regard."

And then she was running, guided by the red emergency floor lights and the blueprint of the Government Administration Building burned into the forefront of her mind. Yes, she was going against his orders, but what was the point of liberating his sister if there would no longer be a brother with whom to reunite her? Surely he would see that, and forgive her. But Kallen knew that this was far more for her own sake than for Nunnally's. She would save him because of all the times he had risked himself to come to her rescue. She would save him to make him keep his promise. She would save him because she was his lover, his protector – his knight.

* * *

Hovering high above the ground as part of the defense force protecting the Government Administration Building, David T. Darlton smiled grimly as he surveyed the aerial battle scene from inside the cockpit of his Gareth. Although intermittent explosions still rang up from perhaps a hundred meters below, the airspace around the towering building had reached something of a stalemate. The rattle of machine guns – both from the float-unit equipped Vincents and the defenses of the building itself – acted to suppress the enemy Akatsukis, keeping them largely at bay. The Gareths, in turn, with their twin Hadron Cannons and quad missile launchers, would intercept and dispatch any pilots unwise enough to attempt a more aggressive probe of the defensive line.

Though the fighting in the sky had reached a lull, the same could not be said of the forces deployed on the ground. If anything, those distant explosions came at a greater frequency, dotting the cityscape with flashes of white and leaving the slow burn of orange flame as proof of their short-lived glory. The reason behind the increase in activity was obvious; in the last few minutes, dozens of blue triangles had reappeared on the radar display, signifying Sutherland units that were now online as a result of the crumbling Gefjun Disturber network.

And with their main contingent restored, the outcome of this attack was clear - it would end in an overwhelming Britannian victory. The aerial battle was at a standstill, and it seemed that the elite units – the Knights of Rounds and the ace pilots among the Black Knights – were about evenly matched. It was the fighting on the ground that would decide the day, and Britannian ground units now outnumbered the UFN Knightmares by roughly five to one.

Further, the strategic layout of units favored the Britannian side. The bulk of the Knightmare defense battalions had been arrayed around the outskirts of the Tokyo Settlement to establish a perimeter. Upon activation of the Gefjun train network, the Black Knights had punched through their disabled lines, aiming for the heart of the city – the Government Administration Building. With those units now restored, all they needed do was tighten their formation around that central point of the city, in effect closing a fist around the now surrounded enemy force. The float-equipped Akatsukis in the air would soon find themselves crushed between heavy shelling from the ground and the defensive line of Gareths and Vincents in the air, which would now be freed to commence an attack on all the remaining aerial units. And with a stroke of luck, all that could be accomplished without requiring additional aid from Second Prince's Schneizel's reinforcing fleet.

"David," a familiar voice intoned as a communication link flickered onscreen, "there's an energy bloom coming from inside the Government Administration Building. Do you see it?" It was his brother, Claudio, one of only two that remained. He had once had four others, all members of the Glaston Knights. The Black Knights had seen fit to leave him with just two.

He glanced at the monitor. Claudio was right – a large heat source was now detected onscreen, traveling fast up the length of the tower. He pivoted his Gareth to face it, just in time to see the heraldic Britannian coat of arms fracture, then explode outwards, sending fragments of metal and concrete in a burst of angry magenta light.

David didn't quite understand just what happened next. The light shot out towards him, moving impossibly fast, and suddenly his whole cockpit flashed red in warning. He couldn't believe what he saw on his screens – somehow, the entire right arm of his Gareth had been taken off. But the jolt of an enemy Akatsuki colliding with his Knightmare, the vibration sword it drove into his cockpit block – those were real enough. And as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, as the pilot interface crackled with yellow and orange sparks, and just before the world turned blindingly white, David realized what he had seen. It had been death, coming for him in the guise of a crimson lotus.

* * *

Flicking his wrist to shed the last lingering droplets of blood from the blade, Rolo folded and pocketed the knife in a smooth, practiced motion, while simultaneously releasing his hold on his Geass. He barely deigned to notice the pair of guards, now lifeless heaps to either side of him, inasmuch as it took to avoid stepping in the pools of deep crimson spreading quickly from beneath their opened throats.

He was pressed for time, yes, but he wouldn't let that affect his concentration, any more than had the brief transmission he had picked up earlier. This was the third hangar bay he had come across, all of which had been guarded, yet none of which contained the diplomatic emergency escape shuttle he sought - or rather, the wheelchair-bound Governor-General whom he would never have to call "sister".

Rolo let the doors slide shut behind him, the mirrored rows of Knightmare Frames – Sutherlands – disappearing from view. His thoughts drifted back to the conversation he had intercepted between Kallen and Sayoko. Kallen's presence in the building had presented a rare and tempting opportunity to… remove her… without casting suspicion on himself, yet if Nii-san were in danger, and Rolo had no doubt that he was, she might very well be his only salvation. And besides, having both Kallen _and_ Nunnally disappear – and perhaps Sayoko as well, should she find the girl first – would surely incriminate him in his brother's eyes.

No, he had decided rightly in committing to his original plan. Kallen was a matter that could be handled later – she was certainly no stranger to peril, and given her hotheaded nature in combat, some accident that happened to result in her death would not be taken amiss, or likely even scrutinized. But tonight, his target was Nunnally. Tonight, she was vulnerable, and it was unlikely that such a chance would come again, especially if she were brought under the protection of his Nii-san. Finding her, however, had proved to be difficult, and Rolo knew that he had to move quickly; the main corridor lights had flickered on only minutes before he had come upon the last hangar bay. That could only mean the collapse of Nii'san's Gefjun Disturber network, which had disabled all unshielded Sakuradite-employing technology.

"Rolo-sama," Sayoko buzzed in the earpiece of his helmet, "We've located Lady Nunnally." Slowing his stride, Rolo brought a hand up to the side of his face, settling the device more securely in his ear. It was a pity, really; he had just begun to grow fond of Sayoko.

He wet his lips. "Where are you?" Stopping completely now, he waited, weighing his options. If they were close, he might have enough time to intercept them before they could secure transport away from here, but if they were too far….

"Shuttle bay six, on the western side of the building." He narrowed his eyes. That was somewhat inconvenient. "Now that the Gefjun Disturbers are down, it may be prudent for you to commandeer a Knightmare and provide escort for our escape craft."

"Understood. I'll regroup with you shortly, Sayoko." He turned, walking quickly back the way he came. A plan was forming in his mind. When it came to his "sister", Rolo would have preferred the knife, but a Knightmare would suffice – a simple, yet brutally effective solution to the problem. Unconsciously his hand slipped into his pocket, fingertips touching the locket that he so treasured, the gift given to him by his Nii-san. A faint smile touched his features, but the expression never altered the cold cast of his eyes. For Nii-san's family, he would be enough – he would be all that Nii-san would ever need.

* * *

Lelouch smiled in smug satisfaction as he regarded the display screen over steepled fingers. Kallen's return to the front lines had been unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome; for a short while, when pinioned by the Knight of Ten and his Grausam Valkyries, he had known that he was in dire straits. But Kallen, with her refitted Guren, had dispatched them with ease, shifting the balance of ordnance back into his favor.

It was something he had not taken into account – the fact that the sabotaged Guren would not only be salvaged, but improved upon, bestowed with prototype technology unseen on any Knightmare frame to date. He chided himself for the oversight. Lakshata herself had done much the same to create the Ikaruga and the Sutherland-Sieg.

He dismissed the thought. It mattered little, now that all the conditions for his impending victory had been met. The Guren SEITEN Eight Elements-Type had reduced to shambles the defensive line around the Government Administration Building, and soon, aerial superiority would be his. Even the revitalized Sutherlands on the ground posed little threat – they were far too isolated, and without air support, they could be dispatched at his leisure. But most importantly, Nunnally was safe. There was just one remaining hindrance forestalling his triumph, and Lelouch was confident that that issue would soon be overcome. "Kallen," he began, in an inflection that sounded eager, "take out Suzaku immediately! When you do, all obstacles will be gone!"

"Understood!" With that, Kallen charged, Guren's right hand whipping forward to fling a disk of spinning radiation wave energy at the opposing Knightmare. It found its mark as Suzaku shouldered Lancelot's Hadron blaster, obliterating the weapon in a shower of sparks and shrapnel before he had the chance to fire. Pressing her advantage, Kallen launched Guren's grappling claw and seized Lancelot's forearm, but Suzaku jettisoned the limb, preventing the lethal swell of radiation from reaching the main body of his unit.

In that brief respite, Suzaku darted backward, drawing a Maser Vibration Sword in a smooth, downward slash, only to have it blocked squarely by Kallen's forked dirk; using her momentum, she pushed through the blade, her upgraded weapon variant snapping his in two. Suzaku responded by casting away the broken hilt while simultaneously pivoting Lancelot for a spin kick aimed at Guren's head – but Kallen twisted, the kick meeting only the magenta blades of her energy wing and slicing the leg cleanly at mid-thigh.

Leaning forward in his seat, Lelouch watched with rapt attention as Kallen drew back her arm, poised to deliver the finishing blow. "Kill him!" he roared, hands clutching the armrests of his chair, "Kill Suzaku!" There was no remorse in his eyes, no feelings of regret for his boyhood friend – just the hot-blooded frenzy of a victory close enough to taste.

What happened next seemed to unfold slowly, as if time itself were coming to a standstill. Kallen swung her hand downward, its silver claws viciously splayed, but Suzaku pulled back at the last moment, and so the attack aimed for Lancelot's head closed instead on its remaining right shin; he discarded the leg, and used the intervening moments to draw a missile launcher of some kind from behind his back. Flinging out an arm, the weapon extended, and Suzaku brought it forward and level, firing a single shot aimed directly at Guren. Kallen dodged it effortlessly. It glided onward, almost gracefully, until stopping some distance away from the Government Administration Building at the heart of the Tokyo Settlement, where the projectile transformed into an intense beacon of pink energy that seemed to drink in the darkness.

His gaze transfixed on that brilliant point of light, Lelouch gasped in apprehension, violet eyes widening in shock. "Could this… could this be the weapon that Suzaku was talking about?" It hadn't been a bluff? Then the second realization dawned on him, and he shouted, crying out her name, his lungs strained in terror. "Nunnally!!!" The point crackled and flashed with bolts of blue and black lightning, and then, without warning, expanded into an ever-increasing sphere of blazing magenta, disintegrating everything within its radius. He watched, in horror, as the Government Administration Building was consumed by that light, but even then, it wasn't satisfied, the massive sphere growing ever larger, indiscriminate toward what it destroyed.

Desperately he pitched Shinkirou forward, towards the approaching light – there was still time, he could still save her, save Nunnally! But another Knightmare collided into his, forcing him back, away from the all-encompassing neon glow. "Princess!" Guildford shouted through the communications channel, even as his Vincent was taken by the blaze, "you must survive!" And in a moment, it was over, the sphere winking out of existence instantaneously.

Lelouch didn't register the aftershock of the explosion – the booming rush of air to fill the vacuum that the vanished sphere had created. Nor did he remember landing atop a half-destroyed building at the outer perimeter of the blast. But at some point during the fighting, a new dawn had broken, bathing the city in a low, somber light, as plumes of black smoke rose steadily in the morning air, marking unseen fires still burning in the rubble below. In the distance loomed the Avalon, flanked by the regrouping Britannian float units and Britannia's reinforcing fleet. Judging by their flight formation, it seemed that an unofficial ceasefire had been called, following the detonation of the warhead.

Lelouch paid heed to none of it. All he saw was the wide, circular crater – the cruel afterimage of FLEIA – cut cleanly into what had once been the Tokyo Settlement. Nunnally had been in that light. And now, she was gone.

* * *

Kneeling in the half-light of her closet alcove, C.C. chewed her lower lip, wondering again whether it was safe now to approach. When Master had returned, half-carried by his brother – Rolo? – he had been nearly lifeless, and for a moment she had feared he were dead, or at least grievously injured. But then he had turned against his brother with such unrestrained ferocity that it had frightened even her, she not even the object of his anger, and had forced her to take refuge in the darkness of her closet. From within, she waited; after Rolo was cast out, Master had taken a seat on a bench by the table, only to stare down into the glass oval of the mask on the tabletop in front of him. And he hadn't moved, hadn't spoken a word, for more than twenty slow counts to twenty.

C.C. rubbed her upper arms with her hands in an attempt to whisk away raised gooseflesh using the heat of her palms. It was more comfortable to wear just the white under-things of the outfit, but now she missed the snug warmth afforded by the long sleeves of her elegant black dress. The garment hung on a hanger behind her, and she had considered donning it, but decided against that, as the motion might draw his attention, or worse, invite his ire.

She shivered, but it wasn't just the cold that affected her. It was the cast in his eyes, their once vibrant amethyst gemstones now lusterless and empty, unmoving from what she presumed was his own distorted reflection in the mask. If he turned that cold, unseeing expression on her… C.C. didn't know if she could bear it.

But neither could she just stay silent and wait – not any longer. It was her duty to serve him, to go to him, when he needed comfort, as he surely did now. If only she knew what was wrong with him…. He wasn't wounded – the strength with which he had attacked his brother attested to that – but could he possibly be sick? Taken by the mood spells which she had heard would sometimes leave the afflicted in and out of fits for days, until the spell passed? But that was unlikely – sufferers of that illness were anxious and prone to irritability, but the explosion of rage he had displayed, followed by the absolute, chilling stillness, had to be something else. And besides, mood spells weren't common in men, as they were in women.

Shifting as she knelt, her toes bumped something small, but heavy. Instinctively she reached for it, holding the object toward the light coming through the half-opened closet door. It was the jar of ointment that Master had given her as a salve for his bruises. She turned it in her hands, regarding it thoughtfully. Could that be what was wrong with Master? Had his bruises stiffened so much that it was too painful for him to move?

C.C. summoned her courage. She had to do this, but further, she wanted to do this – wanted to help her Master in any way she could, and not only as repayment for the kindnesses he had shown her. But as she rose, her nervousness betrayed her, turning her knees to jelly and forcing her to steady herself with a hand along the side of the doorway. At least she didn't trip as she padded barefoot toward him, her steps small and timid, the jar with the blue lid like a talisman clutched against her chest with both hands.

By the time she reached him, he still hadn't acknowledged her, and she colored, feeling suddenly foolish. But it was too late to back down, to scamper off to her closet, despite the substantial part of her that wanted to do just that. "M- Master," she managed finally, her voice weak, "do… do they hurt?" Now he did turn, his eyes not empty as she had dreaded, but glossed in the sheen of unshed tears. Her breath caught, looking into those eyes. Even now, he was beautiful.

Having momentarily forgotten herself in that gaze, C.C. fumbled now with the ointment and almost dropped it, but somehow managed to right it in her hands, holding the jar for him to see between thumbs and forefingers. "Your bruises," she explained, admonishing herself for being so ambiguous, "do they hurt?" When he didn't reply, she averted her eyes downward, then continued breathlessly, too shy to hold his stare as she said, "…If you'd like, I can put this on you again…." She paused momentarily, swallowing, and finished in a near whisper, "…just take off your clothes and I'll–" But he interrupted her before she could finish.

"It's not that." The harsh, curt reply made her flinch, eyes closing as if expecting the wrath he had shown earlier to now be directed toward her. But no blow ever came – instead, she felt his hands, gloved and cool, envelop hers, the touch as gentle as the inflection in his apology when he said, "I'm sorry." Timidly she allowed her eyes to open, amber irises edging up to meet deep violet. "Would you just… sit with me?" The request sounded strange – so weak, so pleading. It made her heart tighten in her chest.

"Yes, Master," she replied quickly, to assuage his uncertainty, "Of course." She settled next to him on the bench, closer than she would have dared under normal circumstances – such that the side of her thigh brushed against his own. Master didn't seem to mind. It felt as if he needed that kind of closeness; and if not he, then she certainly desired it.

Sitting there beside him, C.C. arrived at the embarrassing realization that she knew neither what to do nor what to say. She glanced down at the blue-lidded jar in her hands. It felt silly to still be holding it, so instead she placed it on the central table in front of her, as Master's mask was opposite him. But that left her hands free to fidget with the hemline of her shorts. They really were too short – almost indecent in the way they ended at the upper thigh, leaving her so legs bare. Yet it excited her too, knowing that Master could see so much of her – it was almost as if she were…. Unconsciously she tugged the hem a bit higher, exposing another inch of pale white skin. When she realized what she was doing, she reddened, stilling her hands and folding them on her lap. To Lelouch she gave a furtive, sidelong glance, seeing if he had noticed.

But he hadn't. Lelouch sat hunched forward, elbows resting on knees, hands limply overlapped. Though his head hung, the dark curtain of his hair didn't quite obscure his eyes, which she saw had now closed. Relaxing a bit, C.C. released a breath, then turned slightly to look at him in earnest. It was only when her gaze dropped to his hands that she saw the stains on his sleeves – small, dark, round spots, where tears had soaked into the light purple fabric of the cuffs. Master was weeping.

C.C. reached out to him, tugging on his sleeve, held between her thumb and forefinger. "Master," she said in a quiet murmur, her lower lip trembling, "…are you hurt on the inside?"

He did look at her then, turning slowly, his eyes opening to reveal dark purple irises rimmed by red. "Yes," he replied, the words thick in his throat, "I suppose you could call it that." Lelouch tossed back his head, running gloved fingers through long locks of jet black hair. His cheeks shone silver in the light, glistening with twin streaks running from the corners of his eyes down along the sides of his face. "I– I lost someone… someone whom I loved very dearly. Nunnally, my sister." He chuckled, but the sound was mirthless, cynical, and he looked away, staring into the distance and seeing nothing. "You once called her my _raison d'être_." His lips twisted wryly. "You and she got along quite well. But you wouldn't remember that."

"I'm sorry, Master," C.C. said in soft reply, her eyes downcast, both as an apology for being unable to recall that memory, as an expression of sympathy with his sadness. She wanted to help him, to take away his sorrow, but it seemed as if there were nothing she could do – no way to get through to him. Reluctantly releasing his sleeve, she began to toy with the beige ringlet around her third finger – the bandage that Master had given her. A thought struck her, and she again pinched his sleeve, tugging for his attention. "Master," she said, suddenly flustered, "if I ask you something, will you answer me truthfully?"

Blinking at her question, Lelouch turned to face her, not seeming to mind the hand at his sleeve. His dark violet eyes studied her for a moment, mild curiosity showing through the solemnity. C.C. held her breath, thinking that he might deny her the asking, but he simply granted her a half-hearted assent with a flick of his hand.

Although she had received his permission, C.C. found that actually speaking the thought aloud was far more difficult than she had previously believed, as she tried to both find the words and muster the courage to say them, blushing all the while. Licking her lips, she took a deep breath, then began, in tones far more even than she could have believed capable in such circumstances. "Before– before I lost my memories," she paused, averting her eyes, unable to bear his gaze as she asked, "I was your lover, wasn't I?" Only then did she look at him, irises of burnished gold gleaming in the light.

For a moment he was speechless, taken aback by the unexpected candor of the question. Seeing that look – the open stare, the mouth agape – made her instantly regret the asking. She felt no less embarrassed when the surprise on his features quickly settled back into his usual calm, a collected countenance that revealed nothing, those deep purple eyes calculating her intent for what, to her, seemed an eternity, her sense of time skewed by the anxiety of the moment. But at last, he nodded, if somewhat reluctantly. "Yes, but it was more complicated than that."

"I know." He seemed puzzled by her admission, and she snapped her mouth shut, the color rising in her cheeks as she scolded herself for revealing too much on the subject. When he narrowed his eyes at her, she dropped her gaze to her lap – but the inquisitive nature of his stare proved to be too much for her, and she fidgeted beneath its weight, until finally mumbling, "I- I hurt you, didn't I?" He blinked.

"What are you talking about?" She nearly gasped when he reached out, cupping her chin and tilting her face up toward him. Her blush was in full bloom – for a moment, C.C. had been absolutely certain that he was going to kiss her. Panicking, her eyes darted, trying to settle on anything but his own, afraid that just by locking eyes with him, he might uncover the embarrassing thought, or worse, the regret at having her supposition go unfulfilled. He mistook the cause of her apprehension. "I'm not upset," he murmured reassuringly, in soft, soothing tones, "…just tell me what you meant." Briefly confused, she bit her lip, them remembered what he was driving at – yes, of course – how she had hurt him. It was so easy to forget herself when she was in his presence.

Hesitating, C.C. glanced timidly to his collar, but no higher, still too embarrassed to look into his eyes. "Your shoulder," she admitted in a low mumble, chewing her bottom lip, "There was a… a bite. It wasn't Kallen and she said you didn't have any other lovers, so it had to be me." Only now did she return his stare, the expression in her features one of clear distress, golden eyes welling with the onset of tears. "I'm so sorry, Master," she said quickly, pleadingly, "you know I would never do anything to hurt you, don't you?"

Her fears ebbed when he nodded with a tight smile. "Yes, I know. It's all right." She felt him release his hold on her chin, but before he could draw away his hand, she took it in both of hers. Being so forward was unlike her, but she was committed to act; if only her strength of will held sway over the flush in her countenance. As he looked at his hand held by hers, his eyes narrowed in question, but not in disapproval. That spurred her courage.

"Master," C.C. began softly, afraid to trust her voice, "…I know you said that you'd never ask it of me…" she paused, opening his curled fingers and pressing his gloved palm to her cheek, "…but what if I wanted it, too?" The vulnerability was plain on her features, outshone only by the implied invitation. He did try to pull his hand away then, but she wouldn't let go, and if anything, the motion only brought her face nearer to his, so he relented. She certainly didn't mind – it was thrilling, being so intimate with Master. "I want to be with you," she confessed in a voice barely above a whisper, so near now that she could feel the heat of his every breath, "to heal your hurts, to comfort you in whatever way I can…." Her eyes, bright gold and intent, drank deep of gleaming violet. "Will you let me serve you, Master… to help you forget your sadness…?" Her lips nuzzled a brief kiss against the gloved heel of his hand.

"C.C.," he replied in a low but firm voice, "I can't." But she didn't seem to register his reply, caught up as she was in the dizzying feeling of being so near. Unable to resist any longer, she leaned closer, pressing her lips lightly to his. It was a chaste kiss, but she reveled in it, enjoying the soft, yielding warmth of him, that wonderful silken feel of his lips on hers. It felt somehow familiar, her body seeming to act of its own accord as her arms slipped around him, one of her hands moving to the side of his neck, the other running its slender fingers through the dark tousle of his hair. She held him in place, never wanting the sweetness of this moment to end. But it did, Lelouch breaking the kiss, turning his face away, his hands drifting to her shoulders and squeezing, trying to coax her into drawing back. "We can't do this." His breathing was quick, as if flustered, but the tone in his words was resolute. Denied his lips, she began to kiss the side of his neck, the corner of his jaw, the edges of his ear. He quivered despite himself.

Unheeding of his protests, C.C. climbed rather boldly atop his lap, her legs settling on either side of his on the bench as the rising blush in her cheeks betrayed her nervousness. And it was then, with her arms tangled tightly about him, her lips warm with promise against the inner contours of his ear, that the door to his quarters slid smoothly open, revealing a slender, redheaded young woman clad in a flight suit of snug scarlet.

* * *

As the elevator began its slow descent, Kallen shifted her weight nervously, standing next to him with her left arm at her side, right hand gripping left elbow. The cloak of awkward silence that had hung between them ever since leaving his chambers had pervaded even here, making the narrow confines of the elevator seem all the more suffocating.

When she had come across them, C.C. straddling his legs as she worshipfully kissed the side of his face, Kallen had been stunned speechless. But then the other woman had noticed her, and had smiled warmly, amiably – as if she were actually glad to see her! – and, in all innocence, had asked if she could "please help with getting Master out of his clothes?"! That was when the initial shock and hurt of the betrayal had given way to hot, burning rage, the expression in her eyes so intent on violence that C.C. had squeaked, scrambling off of him, before she had drawn air enough to shout. But nonetheless, shout she did, so loud that even now her throat was raw.

At the time, it had been exquisitely satisfying, cowing C.C. thoroughly enough that she had scampered back to a closet at the far end of the room, huddling inside with her head cradled protectively in her arms. Now, though, Kallen felt a heavy undercurrent of guilt for what she had done. She had to remind herself that the girl really had no idea of what she was doing – despite how experienced she had seemed to be, doing those things while perched atop of him. Her teeth ground audibly at the memory.

Inevitably, the fault had to be laid at Lelouch's feet. She had predicted this, had warned him that C.C. would naturally latch on and develop feelings for him – now that he was, for all intents and purposes, her anchor in this life. He could be so irritatingly aloof when it came to women; did he really have no idea of how charming he could be, even unintentionally, when it came to the fairer sex? Kallen glanced at him from the corner of her eye. His familiar black cape was drawn around his body, arms folded and tucked inside as he stood perfectly still, facing forward. It was a bit unfair that he had put on the helmet, making his face unreadable – especially when his body language revealed so little. Still, he seemed perfectly unruffled – stoically unperturbed, as if what had transpired only minutes before had absolutely no bearing on the here and now.

After she had suitably frightened off C.C., Kallen had rounded on Lelouch, her anger still a smoldering fire in her eyes. "Kallen," he had said as he began to rise, but whatever else he had wanted to convey was lost when her full-armed slap took him square on the left cheek – so hard that he abruptly fell back onto the bench. He had needed only a moment to collect himself, and when he did, Lelouch turned his gaze on her, deep purple irises blazing with a fury that outshone even that in her own brilliant blue. But just as quickly, the sentiment was replaced by cold detachment as he schooled the anger from his features. "Why are you here?" he had asked calmly but icily, his tone suggesting that she had been encroaching on something that included her not in the least.

That had cut her the deepest – she had come because she loved him, because she wanted to be there for him, to console him, after not only the loss of the battle but the far more devastating loss of his sister. Kallen knew that kind of pain, and it was not something she wanted him to bear alone. But saying that now, just after she had struck him, seemed terribly out of place. Besides, he had found comfort in someone else. She used the hurt from that wound to fan the fires of her anger, and snapped, "I was sent! Toudou – he has something to discuss with you in Cargo Bay 4!"

Lelouch had said nothing else – he had simply risen, sidestepping where she stood in front of him, then collected his cape and his helm, taking up the latter after settling the former across his shoulders. But before putting on his mask, he had walked to where C.C. had retreated, kneeling by the half-closed closet door. What he said to her, Kallen didn't quite catch, but the other woman's muffled sobbing ceased, and Lelouch even managed to elicit from her a quiet giggle. It was salt on the wound. Then he had stood, not sparing Kallen a glance before donning the mask, and remaining just as mute when he passed her, walking to the door and expecting her to follow.

And so the quiet had stretched on, Kallen unwilling to be the one to break it, and Lelouch, perhaps, uncaring. She was in the right, wasn't she? After all, she had come to his rescue, saving him from the Knight of Ten, along with almost single-handedly turning the tide of the fighting, changing what would have been certain defeat to a near victory. If only Suzaku hadn't used it, hadn't deployed FLEIA…. A sudden thought came to her, spider-webbing her resolve with dread. Lelouch had told her – ordered her – to find Nunnally, to protect her. But she had disregarded the order, rushing to his aid instead. And further, the overwhelming power of her redesigned Knightmare Frame had forced Suzaku into a corner, such that he had no choice but to loose the warhead on the world. Could Lelouch possibly be holding her responsible for Nunnally's death?

Kallen shifted her feet, turning slightly toward him. "Lelouch," she said quietly, hating herself for being the first to speak, "about Nunnally – I'm sorry. If I had stayed with her, then maybe–". He interrupted her, his voice matter-of-fact – a tone not gentle, but neither harsh.

"If you had, I would be dead, and the war would still be lost." His head turned, the dark blue oval of his mask fixed on her. "I don't fault you for doing as you did, Kallen. Strategically, it was the correct choice." Lelouch faced forward again, watching as the flicker of the elevator panel indicated their approach to the cargo bay.

A bit relieved, Kallen waited, still looking across to him, regarding him with eyes that turned sharp as he continued to remain mute. "Well?" she prompted, the irritation apparent in her voice at having yet again to break the silence, "don't you have something to say to me?" An apology, an explanation, an excuse – certainly something had to be said, if only to shed more light on the scene that had unfolded just a short time ago.

"Do I?" he mused darkly as the elevator slowed to a stop, the double door parting to reveal the loading bay shrouded in darkness. Lelouch stepped out languidly, Kallen close on his heels.

"Yes, Zero," she muttered as she walked briskly, overtaking him, "I think–" Whatever she thought fled abruptly as no fewer than five spotlights on the upper catwalk suddenly snapped on, forcing her to instinctively raise an arm, shielding her eyes from the bright, blinding light. "What? – What's going on here?!" Kallen demanded, still unable to see past the intense luminance of the spotlights.

Slowly did her eyes adjust, and what she saw made her breath catch in fear. On the floor level of the loading bay, clustered below the catwalk, nine Akatsukis stood with their machine gun arms outstretched, leveled menacingly at the two of them. A man called out from the walkway, the timbre deep and very masculine. "It's over, Zero!" It had been Toudou. Narrowing her gaze, she could just make out the other executive members of the Black Knights, standing beneath the spotlights, each carrying an assault rifle slung at the hip.

* * *

Lelouch remained quiet, perfectly still, as their shouts and accusations assaulted him from the upper catwalk – that they knew who he was, knew about his Geass and all the vile ways he had used it, and they had trusted him, had friends who had died for him. All of that washed rather ineffectually over him. But one detail was unsettling, and he toyed with it idly – this was happening all too quickly, all too smoothly, to be coincidental. His gaze flicked to the far end of the walkway, where he saw two figures – one was a tall, blond-haired man dressed in white and purple. Of course – Schneizel's hand was apparent in this. And if this was his scheme, then he doubted there would be any way for him to escape.

One shout did cut through the cool detachment with which he had cloaked himself. "Outta the way, Kallen!" Tamaki demanded roughly, "You wanna die with him?" Fury blazed anew in his eyes as he lifted his head, looking directly up at the man – some of the sentiment must have gotten through even the opaque glass of his helmet, as Tamaki shouldered his rifle threateningly, but did not fire.

In the wake of the lingering question, Kallen spoke, her voice low and quiet, meant only for his ears, as she stood before him, one arm stretched out protectively to keep him safe behind the shield of her body. "Lelouch," she began, keeping her back to him, "I would forgive you anything… but you have to tell me…" she paused, lowering her head, "…just what am I to you?" He said nothing, and she visibly tensed, biting her lip, then spoke again in a breathless rush. "With you, I'd–" Stopping herself, Kallen quivered, drawing in a low breath in an attempt to rein her emotions, as she whispered, pleadingly, "Come on… tell me?"

Lelouch considered his options, trying to regain his usual sense of calm objectivity but finding it difficult. In his preoccupied grief over Nunnally, he had allowed Schneizel to outmaneuver him, and now he had been checkmated, pure and simple. Strangely, part of him found that what became of his life hardly mattered anymore, now that Nunnally was dead. Hadn't she been the reason he had donned the mask in the beginning – to create a world in which she might live happily and without fear? Without her, there was little point to any of this.

Shifting his eyes, Lelouch glanced back toward Kallen. She had turned her head partly, offering him her profile, and he saw that her lower lip trembled as she awaited his answer. He had to admire her loyalty, borne out of her love for him – at a word, she would have offered up her life for his, and the look in her eye suggested she was entertaining some foolish idea of dying together. That, he would not let come to pass. Though he considered himself as forfeit, had accepted it as his fate, he would not allow her to meaninglessly throw away her own life in a vain attempt to save him – of that, he was certain, adamant, as if his will to live had, in what seemed the last few moments of his life, been transmuted into a will to protect her.

Steeling himself, he prepared to do now what he had so often tried but always failed to do in the past: to be strong enough to shatter her resolve, to push her away, and in doing so, save her – even if that meant incurring her hatred. "Come on, please tell me!" Kallen said again, loudly this time, her cry so fragile, so vulnerable, that for a moment he did entertain the notion of telling her the truth – to confess his love, no matter the consequence, so long as he didn't have to break her heart.

Lelouch drew a long, deep breath, and released it in a low, rumbling chuckle, the sound echoing louder and turning into a mocking, sinister laugh. "Fools," he said with contempt as he raised a hand to his face, the back-plates of his helmet retracting, "…all of you are fools, for realizing so late that I was using you since the beginning." Smoothly he removed the mask, revealing violet eyes dark with disdain, complementing the insolence of the smirk curved into the line of his mouth. "You knew I was not Japanese – yet you never thought I had my own motives? Fools indeed." He twisted his lips in disgust.

"Enough!" Toudou bellowed from the catwalk, followed by a disgruntled Minami.

"So you don't deny it?!"

Laughing darkly, Lelouch shook his head, his gaze sweeping over the figures standing beneath the spotlights. "That's right – you were no more than pieces on my chessboard. A game – that's all this ever was." The irony was almost too much; Lelouch had never used his Geass on any of the Black Knights' executive members, at least not directly. He had spared them not out of any sort of affection or partiality, but because they had always followed even without the added impetus that Geass had provided. But he doubted that they would appreciate the humor of that observation.

His eyes slid back to Kallen, she still standing immobile before him, and he hardened himself against what was to come. "Kallen… out of all of my pawns, you were the most exquisite." Lowering his voice, he continued for her alone. "Did you think you meant something to me?" Despite the pain it caused him, he wouldn't let this façade come undone, not when it was her sole salvation. "You were just a diversion, a bauble to entertain me when I couldn't have C.C." He knew how much that would cut her, taking advantage as it did of all her doubts and insecurities, and he hoped that some day she would find it in herself to forgive him those words. "Geass is just one method, and a crude one at that, to bind someone to my will."

"I… I see." The reply was faint, as if speaking any louder might let flow tears held barely in check. She didn't turn to look at him, didn't try to catch one final glimpse of him, and he was grateful for it; seeing the extent to which he had injured her would have surely been too much for him to bear. "Farewell, Lelouch," Kallen said sadly before slowly walking away, leaving him alone in the middle of the spotlights.

"Aim!" rang Toudou's firm command, and Lelouch could hear the rattles of shouldered weapons, the clicks of safeties coming off, echoing piercingly amidst the otherwise silent cargo bay.

What happened now wasn't important – all that mattered was that she was alive, that she would walk away from all this, and perhaps, one day, find happiness. He fixed violet eyes on her retreating figure, body relaxing as he awaited the onslaught from above. It was a sad but fitting end to the tragedy that had been his life – that the last thing he saw before leaving this world would be the woman he loved, walking away from him. Taking a long, final breath, he exhaled slowly, unable to resist a gentle, intimate murmur. "You must live on, my love."

Hearing that soft admission, Kallen stopped, pivoting, sudden comprehension alighting in her eyes as they connected with his – a sentiment rapidly displaced by fear. "Wait!" she screamed, but it was too late – Toudou had already given the order. From the catwalk, six assault rifles opened up with a staccato barrage of automatic fire, their muzzles flashing beneath the glare of the lights. But the rain of bullets never reached him, for in that instant, Shinkirou dropped from one of the higher loading bays, crouching to form a protective shield in front of him as Lelouch staggered backward.

"Nii-san!" Rolo called out, his voice amplified in the Knightmare's wide area communication speaker, "are you all right?" Rolo had come to his rescue?

"Destroy Shinkirou as well!" Toudou roared, but before the Akatsukis could react, Lelouch found himself transported out of the hangar bay, cradled in Shinkirou's golden hand as the Knightmare sped quickly away from the Ikaruga.

* * *

At the sound of rapid footfalls, C.C. ducked into a narrow slot in the wall, pressing her body against the back of the tiny alcove in an attempt to make herself as small as possible. She held her breath, waiting, hoping that the growls from her stomach, that to her seemed impossibly loud, would go unnoticed by the passing soldiers. Thankfully, her hunger didn't betray her, and luckier still, the men hadn't even turned down into her corridor. As their steps faded, she cautiously poked out her head, and seeing the hallway clear, she resumed her anxious search for Master.

Walking quickly and as quietly as her high-heeled boots would allow, C.C. turned the corner, revealing another corridor that looked exactly like all the others she had come across so far. Though she had no doubt that she was quite thoroughly lost, she wouldn't let that stop her from trying to find him. He had said he would only be gone for a short while, and that when he came back, he would bring her all the delicious pizza that she could eat, to make up for what had happened, but that was hours ago, and worry for him as well as gnawing pangs of hunger had driven her outside.

What she found as she had explored the ship only legitimized her fears – something was clearly amiss, perhaps having to do with the alarms that had sounded shortly after Master had left. Further, all the crewmembers she watched from a distance had all been armed, their weapons drawn, as if in a state of high alert. They were looking for someone – of that, she was certain – and as a precaution, C.C. had to avoid them at all costs. But if the person they were looking for was Master, as she suspected, then she had to find him first – so they could escape together.

Slowing to a walk, she spied a large set of double-doors set in the far wall of a broader entryway. The doors were unlike those scattered throughout the normal corridors – they were much wider, so wide in fact that even with her arms outstretched, she wouldn't come close to touching their borders. Could this be where Master had gone? She moved to the panel, pressing the green button when prompted, as Master had taught her. With an abrupt gust of wind, the doors rumbled open to reveal the ship's outer deck, half of which was canopied overhead, the other half curtained only by the late afternoon sky.

After the wind had died down, C.C. was startled to realize that she could hear voices drifting toward her from one of the passageways she had left behind. Panicked, she ran out onto the deck, staying in the shadows near the supports of the upper canopy. Hiding behind one of those winged supports, she waited, terrified that she might have been discovered.

And that was when something massive and purple swept down from above, landing no more than ten paces before her. She would have screamed, had she not been holding a hand over her mouth. But the monster – the Knightmare, Master had called it – opened up its back, and a young, pink-haired girl climbed out, dressed in white and black clothing of the oddest cut. The girl descended quickly on the lift line and began walking toward her, calling out to her cheerfully. "C.C.! It's been so long since we last met face to face!"

* * *

Lelouch settled the locket into the groove he had cut on the wooden post that served to mark Rolo's gravesite. It wasn't enough – his brother had deserved better – but he had dug the grave himself, had hewn the grave marker by hand, and Lelouch thought that that would have mattered more to Rolo than any degree of ostentation. At least the locale was beautiful, on a cliff-side clearing overlooking the sea.

Burying his brother had taken the greater part of the afternoon, and the reddish-orange sky suggested that night would soon be upon him. Though his arms and shoulders throbbed, it was a righteous ache, and so he did not mind. Truth be told, Lelouch was still in a mild state of shock at the extent of Rolo's sacrifice. He had given his life to save his older brother, after all – one who had so blatantly used him, then viciously decried him – and why? Because the love he had held for Lelouch had been real – had been a normal emotion that, in a way, had made him human, defining him as someone other than the cold, sociopathic killer whom the Order had groomed him to become.

As he lay dying, Lelouch found he did not have the heart to tell him the truth. But it was only after he buried Rolo that something inside him realized that he _had_ come to love his younger brother, despite the falsity of the implanted memories, and the Order's twisted manipulation of his personality, which had led him to murder Shirley. Rolo had been innocent once, before Geass had been forced on him, corrupting him. In that way, he was purer than Lelouch himself – after all, Lelouch had chosen the path of Geass, embracing evil to achieve his aims.

Standing at the edge of the cliff, Lelouch looked out toward the distant horizon, the ocean waves shimmering with reds, yellows, and oranges as they caught the sunset. He had been ready to die, had accepted it, but Rolo had found it fitting to extend his brother's life in exchange for his own. And with that borrowed time, he found that there was something left in this world for him to do. For Rolo, for Nunnally, for Shirley – for all the lives that had been lost ever since he had set out on his quest to crush Britannia. Was it complete atonement? No, he wouldn't delude himself into believing that. But it was a beginning.

Lelouch smiled darkly, those amethyst irises blazing with challenge. "Charles di Britannia," he vowed to the rising wind as Rolo's grave bore witness, "if I am to die, I'll drag you down with me into the depths of hell!" And he thought he knew just the way to do it.

End Chapter 6


	7. Kindred

Standard Disclaimer: Code Geass and its characters are not my property, etc. If you're offended by explicit, mature themes, then read on and let me try to change your mind. 18+ please.

Timeline Note: This chapter covers material from R2, Episode 20, until just prior to the two month time skip in Episode 25.

* * *

**The Castaway Prince - A Code Geass Lemon Fanfiction by ClockMaker411**

Chapter 7 – Kindred

Zipping up the split bodice of her divided black dress, with its symbol of the Order of the Black Knights prominent on the bust, C.C. frowned, plucking at the dark fabric with thumb and forefinger. Where it had been tight and appealing before, hugging her curves to full advantage, it now seemed to fit a bit more loosely – and it was no wonder, considering how little Lelouch had fed her during the days she had been left his care. For someone who had spent so much time tending to the needs his sister, he was disappointingly quick in forgetting even the most basic of necessities – daily provisions of pizza being the highest priority. Her stomach rumbled as if in agreement. But despite how much she hungered, C.C. doubted that Sugiyama would entertain that sort of request, considering everything that had happened. Another growl essayed from her belly. No, meals would have to wait.

She sighed as she smoothed the dress over her torso the best she could, drawing down the divided skirts snugly over her hips. At least that hadn't changed. Yellow eyes flickered to the tall stand mirror as she turned, looking over her shoulder to regard her backside. Yes, still quite lush and attractive. Lelouch would approve. Returning to the task of donning her clothes, she took up her triple-banded belt of dark red leather, closing its three golden buckles loosely so the belt was slung around a hip. Then came the detached black sleeves, C.C. slipping her arms inside and cinching the gold clasps of the red leather armbands, holding them high and tight on her upper arms. When she was finished, she looked herself over in the mirror, and finding her appearance satisfactory, stepped back toward the opened door of his bedroom.

There were still a few things she needed aboard the Ikaruga, before leaving, likely for the last time, to join Marianne in search of Lelouch. Passing by the bed, her hand caught the small Cheese-kun backpack she had redeemed, courtesy of Pizza Hut, that had lain beside the larger plush obtained by the same means. She inspected the main pocket – it couldn't hold much, but it would suit her purposes. Stopping before his low dresser, the top of which held a line of books taken from the shelves in the main lounge, C.C. knelt, ignoring the books to instead pull open the second drawer – hers.

The hastily stuffed clothing, she largely ignored; C.C. had never really favored the Gothic Lolita outfits that Lelouch had bought for her, and besides, they could be found elsewhere; the white prisoner restraint suits that she did prefer as loungewear were likewise common enough. What she did take, however, was the neatly folded white Chinese dress, the cheongsam, accented with red trim, that Lelouch had given her as a gift – it went carefully into her Cheese-kun satchel, followed just as carefully by the yet incomplete Pizza Hut point redemption cards that had been buried near the bottom.

As she was about to push the drawer closed, her attention caught on something blue, hidden amidst mess of fabric. Had this been the reason she had come, all along? Almost reverently she revealed it, peeling layers of clothing away until it could be pulled it out with both hands. It was, of course, the heart-shaped blue hat that she had taken off of Lelouch's head on that ridiculous "Cupid Day" event at Ashford Academy, what seemed ages ago. Gently it joined her dress in the bag, C.C. sighing softly at having to deform its shape in order to make it fit. She would have to take pains to keep it out of sight from Marianne, or else there would never be an end to the other woman's teasing. But worse yet, if Lelouch were to find it….

"What are you doing?" a familiar female voice demanded from the doorway, interrupting the thought. C.C. turned her head, the movement languid, her amber gaze settling calmly on the azure blue eyes regarding her in open accusation. Kallen stood with her hands on her hips, the disapproval clear in her stance as she stared, waiting, an eyebrow cocked. C.C. noted that the redheaded woman had taken the time to change as well – the snug flight suit was gone, and in its place the gray-trimmed black hues of her Black Knights uniform.

"Isn't it obvious?" she replied evenly as she closed the drawer with a push of her hand, "I'm collecting my things." Her lips pursed in contemplation, and she rose, taking her bag up with her. "The Ikaruga has recently become a rather… inhospitable place, to friends of Lelouch." C.C. found sweet satisfaction in the startled look that flashed across Kallen's features, she evidently expecting the anxious apologies of the orphaned slave girl, not the dry cynicism of the ageless witch. "Yes," she answered prematurely, seeing the woman's mouth work to form the obvious question, "I've regained my memories." Narrowing her gaze, C.C. fixed her with a pointed, very deliberate look. "Don't think that threats and shouts will drive me away from him in the future, Kallen." Again she forestalled her when blue eyes widened in disbelief. "I know what happened." Though keeping her features unreadable came with natural ease to C.C., less could be said about controlling the faint blush rising in her cheeks – it really was embarrassing, how quickly her former self had taken to Lelouch. "You should realize that now things are back to the way they were, I have as good a claim to his heart as you do. Better, from where I stand."

"And what do you mean by that?" Kallen snapped, apparently irritated at being unable to get a word in edge-wise, or perhaps by having her questions pre-empted – most likely both. Despite having posed the question, she gave C.C. no time to answer, continuing on in angry, biting tones. "Did you know that he almost gave his life to protect me?" Deep blue irises gleamed as they stared into golden yellow, her expression conveying the sense that she would not back down. "That he would have _died_, if Rolo hadn't–" Suddenly her mouth snapped shut, Kallen turning a deep crimson and averting her eyes downward, as if just now realizing what she was saying and burning with the shame of using what had happened as fodder in such a childish argument.

C.C. didn't mind the silence –the detail had been something she hadn't known. Marianne had briefed her on what had happened, for the most part – Schneizel's meeting with the Executive Committee, divulging Lelouch's identity as Zero, then his subsequent betrayal by the Black Knights, which had ended in Rolo rescuing Lelouch and escaping on Shinkirou. The rest she had pieced together using her own memories of those events, seen through the eyes of a slave girl. But this new development was… troublesome.

"But you see," C.C. began smoothly, with hardly a flicker of her disquiet evident in her voice, "that's exactly my point." She waited until Kallen's gaze lifted back to her, then continued, a single eyebrow arched. "If he truly means that much to you, then why are you still here, Kallen?" Slipping the straps of her Cheese-kun bag over first one shoulder, then the other, she elaborated. "At least I am preparing to go to him." Seeing the flash in those blue eyes, she again anticipated Kallen's question, stating, "No, I don't know where he is. But I _will_ find him." Amber irises averted for a moment, as if contemplating something far distant. "We have a contract, after all." That last part was said musingly, almost to herself, but when she glanced back to the red-haired woman in the doorway, her inflection resumed its usual character of aloof sarcasm. "But you," she began as she deliberately swept her eyes down, then up the length of Kallen's body, indicating her uniform, "…you even wear the colors of what is now the enemy camp." And she wore them quite well, she had to admit; though Kallen was a bit shorter than herself, her body was far more voluptuous, while still remaining quite slender, whereas C.C. was long-limbed and slim. It was something she may have envied of her, in the past.

"You don't think I want to go to him?" Surprisingly, Kallen spoke not with a defensive tone, but a solemn one, not having risen to the bait of C.C.'s last derisive remark. Her arms folded beneath her breasts, hands holding elbows, and she shifted in the doorway, not blocking the threshold but instead leaning with her back to the doorjamb, head bowed. "Rakshata's grounded my Guren – she says she needs to run performance evaluations! I can't take it, no matter how much I want to." Her eyes fell on the blacks of her uniform, and she grimaced. "And besides, there's no one here to speak on Lelouch's behalf besides me…. He's the reason why we've gotten this far – if I can somehow convince the others that we still need him, then maybe…."

A lilting, sardonic laugh interrupted her, C.C. enjoying Kallen's display of naïve hope. "They tried to _kill_ him, Kallen," she reminded her as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, the mocking mirth still lingering in her voice, "don't you think the time for debate has passed?" To that, Kallen did not reply, and C.C. shrugged, not wanting to belabor the point. Doubtless the Black Knights had struck a deal with Schneizel – Lelouch's life in exchange for a liberated Japan. After that was obtained, they would have no need of Zero, no matter how useful a symbol he might represent. But it wasn't in her best interest to convince Kallen; besides, it would hardly do if the redhead decided to follow her. If Marianne were right and her own suppositions on the subject proved to be correct, C.C. would be reunited with Lelouch very soon. And she needed time alone with him, without any interference from Kallen – the longer it remained that way, the better.

Turning back to the bed, she scooped up the larger Cheese-kun plush in her arms, holding it to her chest, then looked back to Kallen's figure in the doorway. "If you won't go," she uttered, "then it is here that we must part ways." The words were spoken with empty formality, but her tone softened a bit as she continued. "It has been… interesting, to be sure." Her chuckle was dry. "Knowing Lelouch, this will not be the last time we meet. Goodbye, Kallen." And with that, she sauntered smoothly past her, not allowing the other woman to see her hurry. She had taken too much time as it was, and Marianne would be getting impatient, but showing haste might betray her eagerness to be gone.

But Kallen's voice stopped her just as she opened the main door to the intervening chamber, segregated from the central corridor. "C.C.," she called in an inflection that was carefully tight, prompting her to glance back at Kallen over one shoulder. She hadn't moved from her place at the side of the bedroom door, though her head had turned, those sad, sapphire eyes lifting up to contemplate polished amber. "What makes you so sure that you'll find him?"

'Because I know him better than you?' was what first came to mind, but the look in those blue eyes stilled the harsh retort. Kallen did love him – of that, C.C. was certain, and perhaps it was that kinship, that common bond of loving the same, impossible man, which made her hold her tongue. Instead, her lips curved in something of a solemn smile, the expression in her own yellow irises mirroring perfectly that in Kallen's blue, as she murmured in a soft, quiet voice, only barely audible despite the absolute silence of the room, "We're bound by destiny."

* * *

A low, mournful lament echoed throughout the sandy clearing as the cold night wind swept in from the sea, bringing with it both the scent of salt and the faint but pungent odor of acrid smoke. Lelouch ignored the wind, despite how it whipped at his clothes and tousled the long falls of dark hair framing his face. His objective was inland, not behind and over the ocean, where even still he could hear the rhythmic boom of cannons and the quieter, but still punctuated chatter of gunfire, accompanied intermittently by sharp, sudden bursts of noise as metal wrenched and Knightmares were destroyed.

It was against this backdrop that he stood – that dark, sparsely clouded sky alit with cutting explosions of light that, in their short-lived glory, managed to outshine even the distant stars. The supposed coup d'etat arising from Shikinejima was all a diversion, of course – a ploy to keep the Emperor's support fleet distracted as Lelouch moved to confront Charles himself. And in the midst of that chaos, he would execute his plan to forever rid the world of his father's machinations.

Arms relaxed at his sides, Lelouch slowly walked between the two twin columns of Sutherland Knightmare frames, their float units folded on their backs as they each dropped to the left knee, lifting and crossing massive silver lances to form an archway of metal above him. He gave no pause to consider the pilots inside, each of whom he had subdued with his power, given the blunt command to follow any and all of his orders without question.

Whereas in the past, Lelouch had wielded his ability with surgical precision, carefully tailoring his instructions to accomplish only what he required and nothing more, he now swung it like a hammer, demanding an obedience so complete that his victims were left as little more than empty shells, robbed of both of free will and their former sense of self. The brutality of what he had done did not faze him. Perhaps he had used people so often in the past that he had now grown numb to it. But more likely, he would have done whatever it took, used whatever loathsome means were necessary, to accomplish this last, important act, as the beginning of his atonement.

From amid a rocky outcropping in the distance, Lelouch could just make out the cave entrance, given away by the telltale magenta glow radiating ominously from within. He took his time, walking leisurely, to assure that his father would have preceded him in entering the World of C. A gloved hand idly checked the satchel at his side, its payload of explosives and timed detonator arranged neatly within. Soon… soon enough, it would be done, and when he and his father were trapped together in that otherworldly place, perhaps Lelouch would at last receive the answers he had sought for so long.

* * *

Arms crossed beneath her breasts, Kallen paced restlessly within the confines of the small storage area, set apart from the remainder of the hangar bay. Because most of the surplus munitions had been used in the morning's battle to outfit their Knightmare Frames, the room was largely empty, allowing her an eleven-pace stride from wall to wall – a span she had counted out innumerable times. Though the hour was late – it must have been already past midnight, as the maintenance bay had been deserted when she had first made her way here – Kallen would not let herself sleep, despite the leaden tiredness behind her eyes.

With each step, the synthetic material of her flight suit creaked softly, Kallen having changed out of the charcoal hues of her Black Knights uniform. After what C.C. had remarked, the gray-trimmed blacks she had once been so proud to wear had seemed unbearably stifling, forcing Kallen to trade them for the clinging red of her jumpsuit. Or perhaps it had been another reason – the same reason that had brought her here, back to the storage area, where she had shared secret kisses with Lelouch less than a week before. Color rose in her cheeks and she stumbled, missing a step. It had been more than just kisses. She shook the feeling off, turning her thoughts back to the problem at present.

When the C.C. had departed, Kallen had again gone to plead with Ougi and the other members of the Executive Committee on Lelouch's behalf, despite how futile she knew the attempt would be. Ougi had heard enough, drawing her aside almost roughly. What he had said to her still stung, echoing vividly in her mind. "He used us, Kallen," he had growled through gritted teeth, "Manipulated us – controlled us with that despicable power to achieve his own selfish goals. And you still try to defend such a man?" Shaking his head at that, Ougi had then uttered, in tones of deep disappointment, "It would break Naoto's heart to see you like this." Kallen's lower lip trembled, remembering those cutting words – that look in his eyes. But she would not let herself cry.

She was… terribly conflicted, as if her heart were split in two. One part of her wanted nothing more than to go to him, to search for him wherever he was, to steal her Knightmare, orders be damned, and cover every inch of ground, looking… and yet, the other part dreaded what Lelouch might tell her when she did, at last, find him. When they had been alone together amidst the beams of the spotlights of the cargo bay, Kallen had said that she would forgive him anything. Had that changed? It was that part of herself, that growing doubt, which grounded her here on the Ikaruga as surely as had Toudou's executive order – an order that would only be rescinded if Schneizel requested their help in quelling this sudden, unexplained uprising within the Britannian military.

Those doubts had taken root after seeing the wealth of evidence that Ougi and the others had presented against Lelouch, of which his Geass was only a part. Toudou was convinced that Lelouch had orchestrated the apparent suicides of the remaining members of the Japan Liberation Front, rigging an explosive to destroy their Sakuradite-loaded tanker – a scheme that had all been to the purpose of securing Tohdoh and the Four Holy Swords to his cause. Further, according to the dossiers, one of his victims had been Euphemia li Britannia, the Massacre Princess. How many thousands of innocent Japanese had died that day? Slaughtered, after being led into a trap baited by promises of equality? It was clear now what had caused Euphemia's sudden change in motives. Lelouch, unwilling to let the Black Knights disband in the face of Britannian compromise, had used his Geass, and then took advantage of the outrage generated by that massacre to incite the Black Rebellion.

But what had unsettled her deepest was Kinoshita's testimonial data; he had been Vice-Captain in Team Zero, second only to Kallen herself, and she had trusted him – she had liked him. And so to see him hunched over and bleeding, confessing what he had done, under orders, on the mission from which Lelouch had barred her – that attack on the secret facility in the Chinese Federation… it had almost driven her to tears. How could Lelouch have ordered such a thing? Kallen was a soldier, and killing did not faze her – yet her opponents had always been soldiers themselves. But to kill without quarter – no, to murder indiscriminately, scientists, civilians, men and women, old and young, even children….

Kallen stopped at the far side of the room, steadying herself with her palm pressed flat against the wall. There had to be some explanation – some rationale behind everything he had done, no matter how depraved it all appeared on the surface. Could this be what Lelouch had promised to tell her on the night that had never come, when he said he would put his trust in her, divulge everything, in enabling her to become his confidante? Drawing a breath, Kallen strengthened her resolve, blinking away the edging tears. She wouldn't judge him prematurely, as had everyone else – no, she would wait to hear his justifications for herself. Besides, C.C. had known the truth, and she still loved him despite it, and Kallen herself knew the truth of his love – how sweet and gentle and kind and compassionate he could be… what kind of man could be at one moment so loving, and the next, so utterly ruthless? There had to be a reason – she had to believe in him.

With a sudden push away from the wall, Kallen pivoted, a look of determination glinting in her eyes. She knew what she now had to do, and admonished herself for stalling so long. Her left arm snapped up smoothly, bringing Guren's red and white activation key, which had hung by a chain at her wrist, back up into her hand. She would find him. She would make him fulfill his promise.

But when she strode back into the hangar bay, she froze, suddenly surprised – the place that had been eerily empty before was now a bustle of activity, with suited Knightmare pilots running quickly to their units, weary technicians outfitting their machines with ordnance. So absorbed in her own thoughts, Kallen hadn't noticed the clamor arising outside the storage room. Her eyes picked up a familiar face amongst the crowd. "Tamaki! What's going on?!"

The wiry red-haired man paused in the middle of climbing the ladder to his cockpit block, leaning back from it with one arm hooked around a rung. "What, you didn't hear, Kallen?" he shouted back, "Toudou's orders! We're gonna fight at Shikinejima!"

Comprehension dawned on her – the proposed coup d'etat had been too quick and without apparent motive to be explained, unless the impetus behind it was Geass. Lelouch had to be there. Was he fighting, using Britannian soldiers now that the Order of the Black Knights had forsaken him, trying futilely in one last desperate attempt to kill his father, the Emperor? If he were in danger, she had to find him, get to him before anyone else did – to protect him. "Lelouch," she said under her breath as she sprinted down the ordered lines of kneeling Knightmare Frames, rapidly closing the distance to the gleaming red and orange of her Guren, "I'll come to you as quickly as I can, so please… wait for me?"

* * *

"Do you really think that wise, Lelouch?" At her comment, his hand wavered, fingers poised above the key that at a touch would open a private channel between his unit, Shinkirou, and Kallen's Guren. Pupil-less violet eyes that shone with the symbol of Geass turned their chilling stare on C.C., who sat precariously on the golden armrest beside him within the cockpit block of his Knightmare. The back of her seat doubled as the compartment where he had just put away his attire as Zero, exchanging it for the gold-trimmed black of his Ashford Academy uniform. She had changed as well, removing the black dress, preferring to wear just the white underclothing. The large Cheese-kun plush was still held to her chest, but she had set aside the similarly styled satchel.

"It's a private channel – it won't be detected by the others. If I can get her away from them, then perhaps…." His voice trailed off, and he squinted – for a moment, the display indicating the distribution of Knightmares in the area had seemed a bit blurry. Was he that tired? It was clear and crisp now, showing the remainder of his diversionary Knightmare force from Shikinejima being systematically destroyed by several units from the Order of the Black Knights, top among them Xingke, Toudou, and of course, Kallen herself. Though he was exhausted, this plan seemed straightforward enough.

It had been a few hours before sunrise when they had emerged together from the World of C, Suzaku having preceded them to collect a startled, amnesic Anya, now that Marianne no longer occupied a portion of her mind. After they had materialized in the mouth of the cavernous ruins, C.C. serving as the medium for transport in place of the irreparably damaged Door of Twilight, they had found that Suzaku had already gone. And so they had hiked alone back to the smuggler's cove where Lelouch had left his Knightmare, having discovered the cave by chance while approaching the island in Shinkirou's submersible configuration. Not wanting to draw unnecessary attention, he had thought it prudent at the time to leave his Knightmare in the cove and move inland on foot; now the ache in his legs made him wish that he had set the unit down a bit closer.

Forcing himself to focus, Lelouch turned his thoughts back to C.C., her yellow irises sharpening as they gazed down at him. "You're tired," she said, narrowing her eyes, "and you aren't thinking clearly. You're making a mistake." He raised an eyebrow at her.

He certainly was tired, that was undeniable – Lelouch had been awake for more than twenty-four hours, and the events of the past day had been strenuous, to say the least, taking tremendous toll on him both physically and mentally. Even before the hike, his arms and back had been stiff from the toil of preparing Rolo's gravesite, and now they throbbed, unused to the sort of exertion to which they had been subjected; it even hurt to swallow, from where his father had nearly choked him – at least from his tentative inspection, no permanent damage had been done to his throat. Coupled with the emotional trauma of losing his sister, then the subsequent betrayed by the Order of the Black Knights, as well as the revelation of the truth behind his mother's "death" – it was almost too much for him to bear.

But what he did know was that he wanted Kallen, wanted the closeness and companionship that only she could give him; what he wanted, more than anything at that moment, was to be together with her, to lose himself in her embrace, forgetting all worldly matters and concerns while in the shelter of her arms – a feeling that was unique to being with her. When they had last been together, aboard the Ikaruga, she had been walking away, her back to him, and he had thought that to be the last he would ever see of her in this lifetime – but now that she was so close, just a key press away…. C.C.'s words cut through the haze of his tiredness, her tones sharp and critical. "Have you forgotten already, Lelouch? If you contact her now and she follows you as you wish, then what will happen to her at the end of Zero Requiem? After you are gone?"

Of course. He drew back his hand, if reluctantly, settling it back on the armrest of his chair. In his exhaustion, he had forgotten just what his plan would involve – what it would mean for those around him. Using his Geass and the strength of the Imperial Throne, he would conquer the world, taking its hate upon himself, and after he died, slain by the man who was the very symbol of justice, what would happen to those who sided with him? They would be exiled, if not killed outright, but worse…. C.C. finished the thought for him, voicing it aloud. "You would ask her to betray her values, her friends? Fight against them, perhaps even kill them, sacrificing everything for a love that would only culminate in your death?"

Lelouch gritted his teeth, then, with an angry flutter of fingers on the keypad, dismissed the communications screen. Her points were valid, but no less irritating, she the voice of reason against the fatigued thoughtlessness that had gripped him. He couldn't help but lash out, speaking without thinking, his words sounding harsh even to his ears. "Do you stop me for Kallen's sake, or yours, C.C.?" They had the desired effect, a stricken look of hurt flickering across her features as he gazed at her; seeing that expression, he regretted the remark immediately, but said nothing, concentrating instead on plotting the course of underwater travel necessary to avoid the patrolling Knightmares in the sky above.

"It's for your sake, Lelouch," C.C. whispered softly, leaning against the enclosing wall of the cockpit beside her. "Aboard the Ikaruga, Kallen told me that you were willing to give up your life to save hers… this is no different. Find that strength now."

Feeling suddenly abashed, Lelouch drew in a tight breath, releasing it slowly. "Thank you, C.C." He regarded her with a sidelong glance, but she did not meet his eyes, C.C. giving only a slight nod as her face buried into the back of Cheese-kun's head. Eyes shifting back to the radar display, Lelouch watched, not without some wistful regret, as Shinkirou separated itself from the blue triangles signifying friendly units in the area, still clustered in Shikinejima. When they were distant enough, they would remain submerged and undetectable until they could rendezvous with the Avalon, and assuming Suzaku had enough control over his subordinates to get Lelouch within eyeshot, Geass would ensure that the rest of the journey to mainland Britannia remained uneventful.

The wait might be long, depending on how quickly Suzaku could make the arrangements for the Avalon's departure. Still, Lelouch would welcome the respite – it would allow him to get a few hours of much-needed sleep. His eyes turned to C.C., seated on her perch beside him; doubtless she needed the rest as well. A faint growl came to his ears, echoing loud within the confines of the cockpit, and C.C. hugged her plush tighter to her middle, as if to muffle the sound. Having been consumed in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed the rumbling of her stomach, but recalling it now, it had been quite audible even during their walk back to his Knightmare. A thought nagged at him, and recalling it suddenly, he reached down, opening a compartment beneath his seat and fishing out a foil-wrapped package along with a small bottle of water.

Questioningly, amber eyes met his, prompting Lelouch to offer her a wry smile. "Field rations," he explained, proffering the package and the water bottle, "You're hungry, aren't you?"

"Yes… thank you." She blushed, setting Cheese-kun behind her, and then collected the silver parcel in her hands, looking at it circumspectly. The water bottle followed. Opening the ration, C.C. perused through the number of smaller bags within, packed tight to ensure no wasted space. "It's cold," she said, wiggling out the entrée of the dish – what appeared to be a stew of some kind. "How do I…?"

"Here, allow me." Lelouch took the bag from her hand, and after a bit of sifting, found the chemical pouch used to heat the meal, along with a smaller package of dense biscuits. "It'll take a few minutes, but you can snack on these if you like," he said offhandedly, handing her the biscuits. She accepted them gratefully, tearing the bag open with her teeth when her fingers proved inadequate, then took a tentative bite of the powdery white cookie. He sampled one himself, after setting up the stew pouch in the heater bag, pouring in a bit of bottled water to start the exothermic reaction. The biscuits were as chalky as they appeared, tasting like dust in his mouth, but with some determined chewing a little sweetness came through. C.C. seemed to like them, finishing hers and his as well, once he offered; it still hurt to swallow, and the dryness of the biscuit did nothing to soothe the soreness of his throat.

Sipping the water, Lelouch checked on the food; he had placed it on the armrest opposite that where C.C. reclined, leaning the doubled bag against the cockpit wall to prevent it from bubbling over. "It's about done," he said, drawing out the inner bag that held the now heated stew, "but be careful, don't burn yourself – hold it by the edges." Gingerly, he opened it for her, and she accepted it just as carefully, if eagerly, the spoon from the ration already held in one hand. "Stir it, first." Complying, C.C. stirred the dish, taking a sniff of the stew and wrinkling her nose, but she began eating readily enough as soon as she judged it suitably cool.

Lelouch turned away, allowing C.C. to enjoy her meal in silence. He knew he should eat, yet it was difficult to muster the energy. What he wanted now was – well, truth be told, what he wanted was likely still on Shikinejima – but barring her, what he needed was rest. At least C.C. had stopped him before he had foolishly made the mistake of speaking to her. He breathed deeply, as if the indrawn breath would fill his resolve as it did his lungs. It was for her that he must do this, must go through with Zero Requiem – for Kallen, Nunnally, Shirley, Rolo, and the countless others who had died, whom he had killed, directly or indirectly, while walking his path of carnage, while fulfilling his oath to become evil so that he might rid the world of evil. When he awoke, he would be resolute – hard enough to accomplish that goal, knowing full well what it meant – but for now, as his eyes closed, he hoped that the gods would be kind enough to grant him one last, sweet dream of her.

C.C.'s quiet voice interrupted him gently, coaxing his eyes to open, if grudgingly, to look at her. "You've barely had anything." It was an astute observation, and holding the bag in one hand and the spoon in the other, C.C. offered him some of the dark brown stew. "Eat." Lelouch began to shake his head, but she insisted, yellow eyes brooking no argument as she left her perch on the armrest to take up residence on his lap. Sighing, he relented, opening his mouth and taking in one spoonful, then another, which, despite being a bit over-seasoned, was not as bad as it had looked. And so she fed him what was left of it, in between swallows of water, C.C. quite content in her newfound seat. When it was done, they shared the small pound cake that was the meal's dessert.

It was in the silence that followed, after she had put away the numerous foil wrappers that had segregated the contents of the ration, that she finally spoke to address the tangible tension that had lingered between them ever since their reunion in the World of C. "Lelouch," she began, in an inflection that seemed carefully contained, "I wasn't quite honest with you before – about Kallen. Yes, I had another motive." C.C. paused, glancing down, and close as she was, still sitting in his lap, he could feel each uneven breath she exhaled – it was warmth against his skin. "I wanted to be alone with you." Hesitating, her lower lip trembled, a faint trace of color blooming in her cheeks. "There's something I want to know."

Lelouch had foreseen this, of course, but having known that it would come made it no less difficult, in the end. Slowly, he nodded, the violet depths of his eyes revealing nothing, only studying her countenance, so close now that he could read every subtlety in her demeanor as he spoke a single word. "Ask."

As expected of C.C., her question was not direct, but rather, quite roundabout, her own amber irises regarding his visage with equal care. "Twice now," she began, speaking in a timbre that was both intimate, yet insistent, "you could have had me, if you wished." She paused, averting her gaze momentarily before it flickered back up to him. "I was your slave… I wouldn't have denied you, even if I had wanted to." Her brow twitched, denoting the volume of her frustration, immense as it had to be to penetrate the cool serenity of her mask. "And yet, you refused. Why?"

"You had lost your memories," he replied smoothly, a wry twist shaping the line of his mouth, "I wouldn't take advantage of you like that." It was only part of the truth, and C.C. seemed to sense it, narrowing her stare and arching a single, fine eyebrow. Sighing softly, he acquiesced, glancing away for a moment before he added, "It wouldn't have been the same, with you not yourself. It would have had no meaning."

Seeming satisfied by the answer, C.C. leaned closer, the arm nearest him slipping around his shoulders as her other hand lightly touched his cheek. "And now that I _am_ myself?" she asked, her whisper a seductive invitation of breath along his skin, "…Would you refuse me now?" She ventured closer, her lips a finger's breadth away, then a hairsbreadth. Lelouch did not answer in words, but rather, turned his head ever so slightly, denying her the kiss that her closeness had sought. For C.C., the gesture was enough.

"So you have chosen her, after all." The statement was solemn, not scornful, as she pressed her cheek against the side of his neck. "What of me, then?" The arm around his shoulders tightened, holding him closer, as the hand at his face slipped down to clutch at the black fabric of his uniform. "I warned you, Lelouch," she began, in tones not of foreboding, but of melancholy, "…that the power of kings would isolate you. That in the end, it would be just you and I. Was I wrong?" She did not wait for him to answer, speaking again, her voice tight. "Would you deny yourself what little measure of happiness I could give you?" The plea was uttered into the curve of his neck, but she pushed away slightly, regarding him with golden eyes whose edges welled with unshed tears.

"Do I deserve even that?" Lelouch mused darkly, but the expression in her eyes culled the thread of cynicism. Seeing her so open, so vulnerable, made his breath catch in his throat. He did feel something for her – she had long been his accomplice, his confidante, and at times, his lover – and he did know that a part of him had returned her love, but he understood as well that it was only a fragmentary sentiment compared to what he held for Kallen. And he would no longer exploit C.C.'s feelings for him for the sake of that momentary satisfaction, as he had in the past – it would be betraying both his respect for C.C., and his love for Kallen.

Still, it was the affection he had for the woman astride his lap that prompted him to reach out, cradling the side of her face to his neck as he smoothed the green tresses of her hair. "This is my penance," he murmured softly, "…my atonement. Misery is what I deserve." His hand slipped beneath the locks of her hair, moving to hold her gently at the back of her neck. "But what about you, C.C.? Twice you've had the chance to end the misery of your immortal life. Why did you not?"

Her response was long in coming, and for a moment, he thought she might already have fallen asleep, but she did reply, her soft-spoken words carrying a thread of crestfallen cynicism. "Perhaps I thought you would keep the promise you made to me. To die smiling, wasn't it?" He knew her very well, knew her mannerisms and the inflections of her speech, and he thought he could tell when she was lying – this was one of those occasions, as evidenced by the minute tremble of her shoulders as he held her, and the soft quaver in her voice. "But that seems impossible now." Lelouch remained silent for a time, considering not the words she had spoken, but the true message that her demeanor conveyed – that she had hoped to have his heart, but in the end, it had already been given to someone else.

"Will you do something for me?" she asked in a plaintive whisper, the request hesitant and uncertain, so unlike the aloof confidence with which she normally spoke. He found himself nodding, unable to deny the raw emotion in her request. Settling back against him, C.C.'s body felt tense as it pressed against his own, as she said, in a voice that sounded on the verge of crying, "I'm cold… can I stay like this, just a little longer?" In wordless assent, his hand rubbed the nape of her neck in soothing circles, while his other arm slipped around her middle to hold her closer. "Thank you," she mumbled into the side of his throat, relaxing visibly in his arms, and Lelouch pretended not to notice the warm wetness of her tears as she wept.

* * *

"Lelouch…" she said under her breath, sea blue eyes widening in stunned shock as they stared up at the main viewing screen on the bridge of the Ikaruga. Transfixed, Kallen's gaze followed his every step as he languidly, insolently, took his seat on the Imperial Throne, looking as elegant as ever in the gold-accented black school uniform of Ashford Academy. "Why…?"

Lelouch was alive, and in Pendragon, of all places. How long had it been since she had last seen him, on that fateful day in the belly of the Ikaruga, when they had been alone together in the glare of the spotlights? A month? How many days had she spent looking for him, looking for his body, scouring the rabble at Shikinejima for any trace of evidence that might shed some light on his whereabouts, or even if he were alive or dead? But there he was, looking no different from how she remembered him – full of confidence and vitality, those violet eyes she loved so much now sweeping across his dominion with an air of youthful arrogance. Why…? If he were alive, then why hadn't he tried to contact her, to assuage her worries? He loved her – he had confessed it! – but why didn't he at least send some message – a call or text, anything! – so that she wouldn't have had to spend so many nights awake, tossing and turning, fearing what might have become of him?

Her breath caught in her throat – the nobles gathered to witness his self-investiture as Emperor had apparently had enough, as a trio of guards rushed at him, their halberds leveled – only to be met by a sudden blur of black, the figure dropping unexpectedly from the rafters and shattering their weapons with a spinning kick. "Suzaku?!" she sputtered in disbelief, the sentiment only magnifying as Lelouch introduced him regally, bestowing upon him a rank that superseded all other Knights of Rounds – the Knight of Zero. How… how could he do this? To not only take Britannia, but to ally with Suzaku – a man who had been his enemy, and her rival, from the very beginning of this struggle? And why Suzaku? Hadn't _she_ sworn to be his knight? Shouldn't she have been the one beside him, wearing the mantle of the Knight of Zero? And yet… he hadn't even let her know that he was still alive.

Kallen clenched her jaw, dark blue eyes sharp with feminine disapproval. This had to be some scheme they had concocted, but to what purpose? Having lost the Order of the Black Knights, had he turned to his only other path to power, the Empire of Britannia, as a means to dominate the world? No – it couldn't be that simple. She knew him, knew the kind of man he was – there had to be some other explanation behind the superficial desire for power, some other motivation behind his actions, just as there had to be a reason for him to commit the acts that seemed so atrocious in retrospect. She would hear those reasons for herself, as he had promised her in that moment outside his quarters, and when she did, she would see that all her doubts had been unfounded – that at the core of him, he was good, his motives pure, despite all he had done in donning a cloak of evil so that evil itself could be destroyed. It had to be true. It had to be.

* * *

"Be ruthless," C.C. had said to him, the words now echoing in his mind as his violet eyes traced the slender figure leading the way a few steps in front of him, uniformed in the charcoal and sable of the Order of the Black Knights. Despite all he had done in the few days following his ascension to the throne – the destruction of his father's tomb, the abolition of the nobility, and the restructuring of the core tenets of Britannia itself – Lelouch knew that this trial would be, by far, the most difficult: a cruel, but necessary test of his resolve.

When Lelouch had first laid eyes on her, after disembarking from his personal shuttle, he had almost inadvertently broken the cool façade of pleasant serenity that he had donned as his mask, so intense had been the sudden rush of emotion at seeing her again. But he had contained the sentiment, if only barely, upholding the pretense of affable politeness for the sake of watching cameras as they strolled the grounds of Ashford Academy. And now that they were alone in the Student Council Clubhouse, the wide, carved door closing gently behind him, he would exchange that guise for another. "Forgive me, Kallen," he whispered under his breath, too softly for her to hear.

Stepping forward quickly, he closed the distance between them, his left hand encircling her right wrist and spinning her round; she nearly stumbled forward, but he caught her in his arms, Lelouch seeing only the briefest glimpse of surprise on her features before crushing her to him in a desperate, passionate kiss. At first, she fought him, but soon the hands that had been pushing him away began to cling to him instead, fingers clutching at the gold-trimmed white stole complementing his imperial robes. She returned the kiss, and Lelouch reveled in it, losing himself, if momentarily, in the feeling of being so close, as he struggled to commit to memory every vivid detail of what would surely be their last intimate embrace, from the heady warmth of her body and the faintly lingering scent of her lavender soap, to the silken heat of her lips pressed to his, and the sweetness of her mouth when those lips parted to deepen that connection – even the soft gossamer flutter of her eyelashes against his cheek as she blinked away tears, tears that fell warm and wet on his skin.

It was only for want of air that he broke the kiss, drawing in several uneven gasps while he held her close, enfolding her black-clad form in the whites of his robe. "Lelouch…" she breathed, only now seeming to again find the will to push him away, "No…wait, there's something I– ahh…." Her words faded into quiet moans as he began to kiss her neck, teeth and tongue nipping playfully at the creamy skin just above the line of her gray-edged collar. He would have to be careful here – his aim was not to overcome her fortitude, but only to set her off-balance enough that she…. "Wait…" Kallen said again in a soft, desperate plea, as his lips and tongue traced the contours of her ear, "…stop, Lelouch, please… stop…." His left hand released her wrist only to slip to her flank, fingers edging under the layers of her uniform and caressing the skin beneath, his intent clear as his hand moved from her side, to her stomach, slipping ever lower until his fingertips dipped into the waistband of her shorts.

That movement seemed to have the desired effect, as she pushed him suddenly away with hands at his shoulders, keeping him at arm's length. Those blue eyes were intense as they gazed into violet, Kallen's face still flushed crimson in embarrassment. "Stop," she repeated, more firmly now that she was no longer distracted by his insistent kisses, "There's – there's something I need to ask you." Her breathing was still somewhat ragged, coming in long, uneven breaths, but the cast in her features conveyed an inarguable sense of determination. It was here, in this mindset, that he needed her to be.

"Of course," he murmured softly, his right hand reaching out to stroke her cheek. "Anything for you." She shivered even at so small a touch, and he softened his expression, adding, with a smile, "…but at least let me touch you. It's been far too long, Kallen – I've missed you."

The admission seemed to unsettle her, Kallen averting her eyes momentarily as the color deepened in her cheeks. She did not draw back, though, and quickly enough, her stare lifted back to his, sapphire irises looking like nothing more than deep wells of rippling blue, rimmed as they were with tears. "Why…" she began in an inflection that was equally fragile, "…why didn't you tell me that you were alive?" Her gaze shifted, lowering to appraise the decorative ruby prominent on his sternum, as the words spilled out unbidden. "I looked for you, day and night, in my Knightmare, at Shikinejima, thinking you were dead… but when I didn't find you, I searched all over Tokyo – even the tunnels under Shinjuku – everywhere I could think of, but you weren't–"

Lelouch interrupted her, taking a step closer and pressing his forehead lightly to hers, forcing her to meet his eyes, as the edge of his thumb wiped away a rolling tear. "I'm sorry, Kallen," he said gently, giving a half-hearted, half-abashed smile of apology. "I wanted to contact you, but I couldn't – for your own safety. If I told you where I was, you would've tried to come to me, wouldn't you? If the Black Knights thought you were defecting…." Lelouch trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid. "I wouldn't risk your life like that." The smile returned. "But it doesn't matter now that we're together again." His lips brushed a kiss along her own, as he whispered softly, "You can be where you belong – at my side."

Kallen shivered again, her lips trembling as they returned that fleeting kiss. She was beginning to succumb to him – he would have to be more careful. Leaning back slightly, Lelouch allowed her a moment's respite, and she took it, drawing a breath to collect herself. "And what is it that you're trying to accomplish, Lelouch?" she asked, the steadiness in her voice returning as her blue eyes fixed on him. "By taking Britannia, destroying all that it stood for? And even siding with Suzaku?" Her brow twitched at that, betraying the irritation she must have felt toward the man. Inwardly, he sighed – the title of Knight of Zero had also been a tool, a wedge – a seed of doubt, planted inside her resolve.

The hand at her cheek shifted to hold the side of her neck, Lelouch speaking quietly, in tones of regret. "It was necessary to involve Suzaku," he admitted, "since you were otherwise unavailable. Suzaku, with his Lancelot Albion, provided a needed show of force by defeating the Knights of Rounds, solidifying my claim as Emperor." He pursed his lips wryly, looking away for a brief instant before meeting her stare once more. "But with the both of you, our strength would be undeniable." Ambition glinted in his violet eyes, and the look was not lost on Kallen.

"Strength toward what end?" Though her features were guarded as she asked the question, Lelouch thought he could see a flicker of doubt in her expression as she regarded him, awaiting his answer. It was that which he had to cultivate, but subtly, or else the decision she would inevitably have to make would not seem her own. Imperceptibly, he steeled himself for what was to come.

The best lies are often woven around strands of truth, and Lelouch capitalized on that fact now, the inflection in his words steady as he answered with a simple reply. "Peace, Kallen." The hand at her neck, he withdrew; it would be better if he seemed reluctant, now. "Britannia is a means to that end," he confessed, glancing away as his lips compressed into a fine line. "While I would have preferred to have sought it as Zero, it seems that this is the only path left open to me." Shrugging slightly, Lelouch turned his attention back to her, his smile grim. "When someone wins, the fighting will end, and at last, there can be peace."

Brows furrowing, Kallen fixed him with a suspicious stare, as she began, her tone inquisitively accusing, "So your purpose here today, your petition to join the United Federation of Nations–" He interjected gently, forestalling her conclusion.

"My intent is honest. If peace can be achieved through the tenets of democracy, then all the better." He certainly could not reveal the true extent of his plans here, and so, he added in a reassuring tone, "I only hope that my fellow council representatives will see my actions over the past few days as just, and admit Britannia into the federation."

Her arms crossing beneath her breasts, Kallen regarded him sharply, blue eyes studying his features. "And if they refuse?" She arched an eyebrow.

"If diplomacy fails," he murmured sadly, "then there will be war." Returning her gaze, Lelouch steadied his voice, any hint of reluctance now gone, the violet stare he turned on her just as unyielding as her blue. "As I said, Kallen, for there to be peace, someone must end the fighting. And who better to end it, to rule the world, than I?" With a flourish of his hand, he indicated the black and gray uniform she wore, his demeanor carrying no small amount of arrogance when he spoke. "As Zero, I was nothing but a man with a mask, but you put your trust in me, and look what I was able to create. The Order of the Black Knights, the United Federation of Nations – all accomplished by my merit alone." A satisfied smirk upturned one corner of his mouth.

"Your merit, or your Geass?" The words had an edge to them, the flicker of doubt he had seen in her eyes having grown into an ember – one that he would have to fan carefully ablaze.

"My merit," Lelouch repeated sternly, the look that he leveled at her equally intense, as if locking eyes embodied the clash of wills. "I used Geass, yes, but only when absolutely necessary." That was another half-truth, another purposefully dropped opening to invite her attack. She pursued it staunchly.

"Was it necessary to use it against the Japan Liberation Front? To use it against Euphemia? She was your half-sister, wasn't she?" Accusation rang loudly in those words, joined by breathless incredulity, Kallen's cobalt blue augurs boring steadily down on him, grinding against unwavering irises of impenetrable amethyst.

"You doubt me, Kallen?" he replied, allowing a small trace of hurt to thread into the question, though the sentiment was mostly overshadowed by thick amusement. "Very well. I will justify my actions to you." Lelouch paused, as if to collect his thoughts, his right hand moving to his chin and rubbing it idly between thumb and forefinger, his left cupped the right elbow, as his violet eyes considered her carefully. "I destroyed the Japan Liberation Front because they couldn't see past their old, outmoded line of thinking. They wished only for a freed Japan, but Japan alone could not stand against the strength of Britannia – the first invasion proved that quite clearly. It was proved to me again, in the Black Rebellion." He pursed his lips thoughtfully, as if contemplating just how to phrase his words. "Japan has always been… a lynchpin, yes, but for a truly liberated Japan, the UFN was an absolute necessity. And to achieve that end, I needed capable commanders, like Toudou – not bickering generals who would second guess my every move."

Addressing the other part of her question, Lelouch flicked his wrist dismissively. "As to Euphemia… her Special Administrative Zone threatened everything I had built until that point. If she had been allowed to go through with it, the Black Knights would have lost favor among the Japanese, and the organization would have crumbled. I would not let that happen." Idly, his fingers plucked at the white fabric of his sleeves, removing a small speck of gray lint. "The massacre was necessary, to consolidate the support of the people."

Stunned by what she was hearing, Kallen's reply was breathless, her words broken and quavering, as if incapable of completing each thought. "But so many… Japanese…" she trailed off, her expression pained, "It was… necessary…?" She looked at him, aghast, the disbelief clear in her eyes, as if she were seeing him for the first time – seeing what he truly was. Forcibly she drew a breath, then said, in a tone that sounded almost numb, "…And the attack in the Chinese Federation?"

Lelouch forced himself to face those eyes, despite how heart wrenching it was to feel them on him – to feel the sentiment they conveyed: that she was looking at a monster. But it was not enough, not yet. He would have to destroy, and then create – to shatter her feelings of love for him, and transmute them into hatred. "A research facility," he explained quietly, "devoted to the study of Geass. Mine is the power of kings, Kallen – I couldn't leave it in the hands of others, so that they could challenge my rule."

"And that's how you plan to rule, Lelouch? With the threat of violence, and the power of Geass?" Her words were spoken softly, almost idly, her incredulity having been replaced by a blankness that was almost unnerving. Kallen's attention was no longer on him, her stare now downcast, tracing the swirling patterns of the marbled tiles decorating the floor.

The corners of his mouth upturning, Lelouch's smile was sinister. "It is the only way to rule." He folded his arms across his chest, a single eyebrow arching in consideration. "Now that I am using my Geass liberally, I've achieved in days what took months with the Black Knights – power, territories, an army, all at my beck and call, replete with the strength that was Britannia." Falling silent, he waited, violet eyes gauging her mood inconspicuously. She seemed close, now, the anger bubbling up behind the open apathy in her expression, given away by her lower lip trembling, mouth open to bare teeth.

"An army of slaves," Kallen said spitefully under her breath, blue eyes flashing as they slid back up to his, "I didn't want to believe it… but it's true, isn't it?" The edge was back in her voice, sharpened now, acute and cutting. "People don't matter to you – you see them as only pieces on your chessboard." She shook her head, jaw tightening, as her arms dropped to her sides and her hands balled into fists.

"That isn't fair, Kallen." His own speech was quiet, but not apologetic, Lelouch raising a hand to the side of his face, shading one eye with his fingers. "What does it matter if a select few must give up their lives for the sake of the greater good?" His eyes closed for short while, then opened slowly, regarding her through the shade of his lashes. "For the sake of peace?"

"For the sake of peace, or for your sake, Lelouch?" Her words were bitter, Kallen looking away momentarily before turning her the full weight of her glare on him, those azure blue eyes ablaze, raging with the fires that he himself had sparked inside her. "Tell me, Lelouch," she began, her voice rising as the scorn began to surface, "After you fight your war, what would you do to those who fought against you? To the Order of the Black Knights?"

Drawing a long breath, Lelouch ignored the rage now burning in her countenance, knowing that it yet had to be stoked into a conflagration. He proceeded, speaking in a chiding, condescending tone. "Come now, Kallen. Don't be naïve." Narrowing his gaze, he continued. "Do you think the others would follow me willingly? The Black Knights tried to kill me, after all – by all rights, they should be executed." Softening his expression, he added, reaching out as if to touch her cheek, "It is only for my love for you that I would spare their lives."

Kallen slapped the hand away, her jaw clenched tightly when she spoke. "Spare them, just to control them with Geass?" she spat, the words harsh in his ears. A look of hurt flickered briefly across his visage, but it did nothing to ebb the tempest of her anger, and as quickly as it had come, it was replaced by his own ire, the chilling frost of his violet irises a stark contrast to the smoldering heat in her sapphire blue. It was time, and he would be ruthless.

"Enough, Kallen." His voice was hard, Lelouch schooling the emotion from his features, all save his eyes, which still glinted like cut amethyst – icy, hard, and implacable. "None of that should matter. If you love me, then you will join me regardless." Slowly, deliberately, he offered her his hand in invitation, palm up. He held his breath.

She stared at it as if it were a viper, Kallen taking a half step backward, away from him. But her glare was intense when it shifted up to him – the look a combination of stunned disbelief, stricken pain, and the raw hurt of betrayal, all set to boil by the furnace of her fury, as she uttered, in a quiet rage, "The man I loved wouldn't have forced me to choose." Kallen turned her head sharply, and then let out a breathy laugh, the sound mirthless, lifeless, as she looked to one side, offering him her profile. "But that man was just a lie, wasn't he, Lelouch? Just another one of your masks." The bitterness in her words bit deep.

He had come this far, and for her sake, he wouldn't let himself weaken now, despite how painful it was to continue. "You disappoint me," he said quietly, twisting his lips wryly. There was just one thing left now, a final bluff, to consolidate her anger, ensure her hatred. Lelouch hardened himself against it, and that sentiment seeped into his speech, the words cold and uncompromising. "I hoped I could convince you to come willingly," he began, sweeping his right hand to his face and deftly removing the contact lenses binding his power, "but I _will_ have you, Kallen." His stare took her in, following the curves of her body almost possessively, the intent clear when he added, "All of you – willing or not." Pupil-less violet eyes, empty save for the twin sigils of Geass, lifted back up to her widening azure.

Though he had anticipated the slap, it was no less painful, taking him full on the left cheek. Afterward, he remained frozen, head turned to his right, eyes downcast, lest the anguish he felt in his heart be inadvertently revealed on his features. "You're despicable," she said viciously through bared teeth, and though he did not face her, he could feel the weight of the hatred in her glare, regarding him contemptuously – the hatred she would need to have, so that she could bring herself to fight against him.

Lelouch said nothing more, nor did he meet her gaze as she stared at him disdainfully. In his peripheral vision, he saw her head give a gentle shake, followed by soft-spoken words – quiet, but leaden with spite, cutting to the heart of him. "I can't believe I loved you." With that last derisive remark, she turned her back on him – something for which he was grateful. Her admission had cracked his smooth façade of cold indifference, the calculating calm in which he had enshrouded himself. And as he lifted his fingers to his face to replace the contact lenses sealing his Geass, Lelouch had to brush away the tears that welled unbidden in the corners of his eyes.

* * *

"To be his shield?" C.C. mused sadly to herself as she watched Suzaku depart, disappearing around a bend at the far end of the corridor. It was wrong to fault him – he knew little of her feelings, after all – but how could she become Lelouch's shield, protecting him from his enemies and bolstering his resolve, when it ultimately meant the death of the man she loved? He was asking too much.

She walked back to the captain's cabin, Lelouch having claimed the rooms as his quarters while staying aboard the Avalon. The wide white sleeves of her restraint suit swished softly at her sides, weighed down by metal buckles and nylon straps. The garb suited her mood; she was, after all, in a prison of her own making, Lelouch having refused to take her Code – he had been adamant about that – and she unwilling to force it on him, leaving her no choice but to wait as his days dwindled and Zero Requiem came to pass. And afterwards? Find someone else, bind another contract, in hopes that she at last might be free of the curse of immortal life? She didn't know.

Keying the panel, C.C. opened the door, revealing the lounge inside. It was smaller and perhaps a bit more traditional that its counterpart on the Ikaruga, but Lelouch had done much to make it his own, lining the walls in tall shelves laden with books, arranging the chessboard he was rarely without on the central table. He was not inside. Her gaze flicked to the closed bedroom door to her left, and with another touch to a panel, it slid open, its interior mostly dark, save for the dim light stealing in from the lounge, and an illumination strip running lengthwise around the room, set in the middle of each wall. But there he was, sitting hunched and listless at the edge of the bed, his head hung, elbows resting limply on his knees. Her heart tightened at seeing him so dejected. Discovering that Nunnally was alive, and that she was now his enemy, compounding what he had already endured for Kallen… perhaps it was just too much for one man.

She spoke into the silence – quiet words meant to be comforting. "You did well, Lelouch, in maintaining your mask for Nunnally." He made no movement, gave no reply, and so she sighed, stepping inside the room and allowing the door to close, C.C. crawling on the bed and finding a comfortable seat behind him, using him as her backrest. "She's on the Damocles… will you be able to fight against her?" Her head tilted backward, settling lightly against his.

"I have no other choice." He straightened his neck, pushing back on her a bit, and she could feel his chest expand as he drew in a deep breath. "Suzaku's right – this doesn't change our purpose." The breath became a sigh, as he added quietly, "I've been giving her special treatment for too long." As Emperor, Lelouch had already turned the world against him, espousing peace and justice only to betray those very principles by holding hostage the elected leaders of the United Federation of Nations. But to suffer Kallen's hatred, and Nunnally's enmity as well….

She shifted, turning to embrace him from behind, her arms lightly encircling his middle as she rested her cheek against the nape of his neck. "It's enough, Lelouch," she whispered softly, her eyes closing as she clung to him, "You've done enough. You don't have to go through with this." She continued in a tight, pleading voice, breathless and hesitant, "Come away with me – we could disappear, just you and I, leave all of this behind–"

Lelouch interrupted her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "You know that I can't, C.C." Though his words were quiet, they carried a strangely mixed sentiment – a sense of will to do what he must, coupled with a resigned sadness at what that would entail. "You know what would happen if I were to stop now." Tomorrow, the battle would begin – a battle to decide the fate of the world.

She held him tighter.

* * *

In the skies overlooking Mt. Fuji, two forces met in opposition, darkening the terrain below with both the shadows of their aerial fleets and the ground units sprawling across the landscape. On the one side was the army of Lelouch vi Britannia, the ninety-ninth Emperor of Britannia, spearheaded by the Avalon, and backed by escorts of Dreadnought battle cruisers and legions of Knightmares; on the other, Second Prince Schneizel el Britannia, in command of the Order of the Black Knights, whose considerable strength matched even that of Britannia, given the destructive power of their flagship, the Ikaruga, and of course, the elegant yet ominous aerial fortress, Damocles, floating high at their rear.

And it was with such a formidable array of pieces that two masters clashed, both brilliant strategists in their own right. In the beginning, it was a bloodless conflict, as each mind predicted, then countered the move of the other; but as it is with war, the violence could not long be suppressed, and soon open fighting broke out among the ranks. It was Britannia that made the first move, Lelouch launching a counterattack as his forces gradually became surrounded, but he met staunch resistance, compelling him to fall back and rebuild his formation. But Schneizel pressed his advantage, employing the Ikaruga's devastating Hadron Cannons to obliterate both Britannian flanks; and when it seemed that the tide had turned in favor of the Black Knights, nature itself made its fury known, Mt. Fuji erupting in a gout of flame and rock that engulfed the advancing U.F.N. aerial fleet, splintering it to pieces, at the cost of Britannian ground units caught up in the blast.

Amidst that chaos, Damocles unleashed its lethal payload, launching a FLEIA warhead straight at the Avalon, the heart of the battle formation, only to have it intercepted by a squadron of Knightmare pilots who, under the absolute control of Geass, sacrificed their lives to prematurely detonate the weapon before it reached the main contingent. Wave after wave of Knightmares swarmed the fortress, provoking volley after volley of FLEIA at the expense of thinning Britannian lines, until, in a surprise move, the Emperor himself charged forward, with his Knight of Zero, Suzaku Kururugi, at his back. Together they achieved what was thought to be impossible, counteracting the FLEIA reaction before it could reach full expansion – in the few moments gained by that unexpected turn of events, they broke through the Blaze Luminous defensive barrier surrounding Damocles to attack the fortress itself.

What happened afterwards was unknown to those still skirmishing outside Damocles' protective shield, where pockets of fighting yet raged between the surviving units of either side. But clear to all was how it ended – in a blaze of magenta as FLEIA bloomed high in the atmosphere, followed shortly after by the voice of the victor, relayed by all communications lines, all video channels, throughout both the Britannian Empire and the United Federation of Nations: Emperor Lelouch vi Britannia had taken Damocles, and with it, grasped the world.

End Chapter 7

* * *


	8. Sacrifice

Standard Disclaimer: Code Geass and its characters are not my property, etc. If you're offended by explicit, mature themes, then read on and let me try to change your mind. 18+ please.

Timeline Note: This chapter covers material from R2, Episode 25.

Author's Note: There's character death in this one – big surprise, right? :)

**The Castaway Prince - A Code Geass Lemon Fanfiction by ClockMaker411**

Chapter 8 – Sacrifice

Trailing her fingertips lightly over the smooth, acrylic-glass walls of the holding cells, C.C. walked slowly down the curving corridor, each soft footfall accompanied by the quiet rustle of polyester fabric and the intermittent clink metal buckles adorning her restraint suit. It was an old habit, keeping a hand on a wall as she moved – perhaps a consequence of having so often had to find her way in the dark, by which the sensation of touch offered the only sense of security and direction. Though she had, for the most part, schooled the behavior from the rest of her mannerisms, it did tend to manifest itself when she was apprehensive or absentminded. And today, she was both.

Over these past two months, how many times had she come this far, only to turn back, stricken with second thoughts? It galled her to be so indecisive – it wasn't like her, and yet, considering just what this scheme would entail, how could anyone be resolute? That was just an excuse, she knew, and she grimaced. This time, there could be no stopping halfway – it would be her last chance, if she were truly going to go through with it. Today had marked the culmination of Lelouch's plan to unify the world, when the E.U. had at last ratified the U.F.N. Charter and been assimilated, if grudgingly, into his fold. Tomorrow, the Emperor of Britannia by rights, and the ruler of the world by conquest, would celebrate the occasion of his victory with the public execution of the few enemies unwise enough to stand against him.

Her gaze flickering off to the left, C.C. frowned as she regarded the wide expanse of cells that she passed, all of which stood empty. All save for one, at least – and that one was still a ways off yet. It wasn't the absence of other prisoners that troubled her – Lelouch had cleared this entire level of the tower prison for the benefit of its sole inhabitant. No, what worried her were the shafts of sunlight stealing in from the narrow slit windows inlaid in the far walls. What she had recalled as slashes of bright yellow and white only moments past were now darkening into orange and red. Sunset, already...? Had she come too late? Would she have enough time? That woman could be intolerably stubborn, when she put her mind to it... C.C. quickened her stride.

Her haste seemed to have the desired effect, as almost abruptly, the cell came into view, distinguished by the pair of visored guards posted at its door. When they saw her approach, they saluted crisply, raising right fist to left shoulder. It was good that they recognized her – it would allow things to go far more smoothly. Her position as Lelouch's... consort?... had granted her considerable authority – she was the one woman in whom the Emperor confided, and was thus, by some, accorded a rank second only to Lelouch himself.

C.C. paid them little heed, stopping only when she stood before the plexiglas doorway to the cell, her hand floating in hesitation above the illuminated access panel as her eyes scanned the interior of the narrow room. It was spartan in its furnishings, with a low cot flanking the left wall and fixtures of stainless steel on the right. The woman herself sat astride a bench at the far end of the cell, one leg drawn up, clutched to her chest with both arms, while the other extended almost languidly along the length of the bench. She was staring absently at the setting sun through a tall slit window. And she hadn't noticed C.C.'s arrival, yet.

Her hand trembled, but willfully she banished those reservations, reminding herself again why she was doing this. It wasn't because she felt guilty over keeping them apart, both by deceiving Kallen when she had left the Ikaruga, and by stopping Lelouch from contacting her when they had escaped from Kaminejima. The separation had been unavoidable, even if it had been accompanied by the added incentive of advancing her own private agenda. It was because that now, even after the need had passed, he still refused to see her, out of a twisted sense of justice dictating that this was what he deserved – despite just how adversely that punishment was affecting him. It was because she had seen his eyes, beneath the mask of smug arrogance he upheld for the rest of the world. She had seen the pain, the sadness, the loneliness – sentiments with which she had been far too familiar in the innumerable decades of her immortal life, until... Until she had met _him_.

And now, C.C. had the chance to relieve some of that suffering – to grant a last measure of happiness to the man she loved. So what if that meant that he would find comfort in the arms of another woman? What did it matter that her heart felt as if it were being wrenched from her chest? Drawing a long, steadying breath, she forced herself to tap the keypad with a fingertip, opening the door in a soft hiss. She would fulfill the promise that he himself had made to her – to let him die, smiling.

* * *

"If you're here to gloat," Kallen called dryly over one shoulder, glancing at the green-haired woman standing at the entryway to her cell, "don't bother. You can have him, C.C. – I thought I'd made that much clear." A lilting chuckle answered her, and ignoring the sound, she returned to observing the world outside, seen through the narrow slit window of thick acrylic glass. At least Lelouch had been kind enough to provide her with a view, even if it only overlooked the wide crater that FLEIA had carved out of the Tokyo Settlement, three months prior.

Disregarding the cold welcome, C.C. stepped smoothly inside, the paneled door sliding closed behind her. "I'm here to talk, Kallen," she remarked quietly. The mirth was gone, and in its place was something that sounded like an oddly reticent sense of… concern. "You may not be so eager to give him up, once you hear what I have to say."

Perhaps it was the sentiment in her speech, one she had never before heard from C.C., or perhaps it was the knowledge that the other woman would not be dissuaded, that made Kallen turn her attention away from the window and look at C.C. in earnest. She was dressed in a white restraint suit, fitted with black straps and metal buckles; the attire differed slightly from the simpler prisoner's garb that Kallen herself wore, but it certainly didn't look out of place in the stark white and stainless steel setting of her cell. And neither did she, much to Kallen's chagrin, when C.C. took her pillow in one hand, clutching it in both arms as the helped herself to a seat on the foot of her mattress. Because the far end of the bed abutted the wall on which her own seat was bolted, Kallen had no other choice but to look at her squarely, sitting as she was astride the bench.

In the silence, hard blue eyes regarded passive yellow, those irises of amber peering out from behind the white cushion of the pillow. Kallen grew irritated. "Well? Out with it, already." Her gaze narrowing, she added bitterly, "And if this is some scheme he's cooked up to make me go to him, it won't work. If he wants me, he can come down here and use his Geass on me himself. I'm just surprised he waited this long."

"It isn't that simple." Breaking off her stare, C.C. glanced back to the clear paneled door, as if having second thoughts about her decision to come here. Slowly, she drew a breath, and as she released it, her attention shifted back to Kallen, the cast of her features grim, but resolute. "Lelouch's Geass doesn't work that way."

Furrowing a brow, Kallen studied the woman suspiciously, her tone carefully guarded when she spoke. "What are you talking about?"

"His power," C.C. began slowly, as if contemplating how to phrase the words, "it's not without… limitations." She took a moment to adjust herself around the pillow, letting her chin rest comfortably on top of it, then continued. "He's used it on you before, Kallen – he told me that much. Once he casts a Geass on a person, they gain a sort of… immunity, toward it. It won't work on the same person twice." Her lips pursed, her look considering as she added, "Though I suppose there is a way around it, but it's complicated. Suffice it to say if he were truly determined, it could be done. But he isn't going to use it on you." Golden eyes shifted back to Kallen's blue, holding her with a very intent stare. "You must have realized that, yes? Or else why would he wait?"

That detail had nagged at her since the beginning of her incarceration, almost two months ago. On the first night, she had waited, anxious and angry, dreading what would come, and yet… nothing. Days passed, and gradually those days lengthened into weeks, with still no word or command, no pair of guards coming to drag her from her cell and cast her at his feet. It puzzled her, and much to her dismay, Kallen found that it also annoyed her – hadn't he said, when they had spoken in the Student Council Clubhouse, that he would have her at his side, even if it meant taking her against her will? She knew it was foolish to feel slighted – by all rights, she should have considered herself lucky to have been overlooked – and yet, ridiculous as it was, the feeling remained.

She spoke suddenly, as if an abrupt realization had come to her. "So when he threatened to use his Geass on me, back at Ashford…." C.C. finished the thought.

"It was a bluff." She let that sink in for a few moments, and then continued, the character of her speech soft and considerate. "I don't know exactly what he said to you," she murmured, her gaze dropping down to regard the pillow in her arms, "but I'm certain that they were only half-truths, meant to vilify him in your eyes. To make you resent him, so you wouldn't be a party to… all of this." She flicked her hand, the simple swish of her wide sleeve seeming to gesture to everything that Lelouch had done since becoming Emperor. "Surely that isn't a novel concept for him – casting you away, to spare you from his fate. That was what happened aboard the Ikaruga, wasn't it?"

Leaning back slightly, Kallen turned to look out through the narrow window, at the shadow filling nearly the entirety of the bowl-shaped crater. It was late in the afternoon, edging into early evening. If what she said could be believed, then Lelouch _did_ have another plan, some other rationale behind taking over the world. But that was if C.C. could be trusted. She knew that C.C. had feelings for him; what motive could she have to divulge his supposed "good intentions" to a woman who had once been a rival for his love? Kallen pursed her lips, schooling the suspicion from her voice. When she spoke, her question was calm and even, though she still had not turned to face the woman across from her. "And why are you telling me this, C.C.?"

"Why?" C.C. mused idly, "Well, I suppose there are three reasons." She shifted uncomfortably on the bed, the movement betrayed by the faint squeak of mattress springs beneath her weight. "I feel as if I owe it to you, to tell you." Kallen's attention flicked back to C.C., just in time to see an irritated twitch of her brow disturb an otherwise unreadable countenance. "On the night I left the Ikaruga, there was an uprising on Shikinejima. I trust you remember it?"

"Of course," she replied, somewhat indignantly, "We thought Lelouch was behind it, so I went there to find him." Kallen, at least, had wanted to find him – the others had only wanted to see him dead.

"Yes. Shikinejima was just a diversion – all the while, we were on Kaminejima, at the ruins." Golden eyes stared steadily into blue, unwavering with her next admission. "When we were leaving the island in Shinkirou, Lelouch wanted to contact you. I convinced him otherwise."

Kallen regarded her flatly, her lips twisting in distaste. "You. I should've known." It was certainly not the first time that C.C. had interfered, coming between Lelouch and herself. Her thoughts drifted back to that night, to their parting conversation in his quarters. "Kaminejima... you knew where he was all along, didn't you?" she stated accusingly, unable to keep the spite from her expression. "You knew, even before you left."

"I didn't know for certain, but yes, I had an idea where he might be." C.C. seemed unruffled by her show of anger. "There were... larger events afoot, that night." A hint of color stained her cheeks, and she admitted quietly, "Still... I wanted time alone with him – to ascertain something for myself." Her voice hardened. "As to leaving you in the dark... it was necessary – then." Her tone softened, becoming almost sympathetic, as she continued. "But now…." C.C. shook her head grimly, a frown shaping the line of her mouth. "Now he refuses to see you, out of some misguided notion that suffering is what he deserves. As part of a penance that he must pay, for all the sins he's committed thus far."

"And why would he suffer? This is what he wanted, isn't it?" The words sounded bitter, even to her ears, as she looked out the window, at the columnar towers that dotted the rim of the crater – prisons that Lelouch had erected after the battle at Mt. Fuji, as a way to deal with "dissenters". His actions over these past two months had only served to corroborate what he had said to her in the Student Council Clubhouse, at Ashford Academy. With Damocles and the power of FLEIA behind him, Lelouch had brought the U.F.N. to heel, joining Britannia to the Federation, and using the majority thereby gained, he had elected himself to both the position of Head Chairman to the U.F.N. Supreme Council, and to CEO of the Order of the Black Knights. It was a farce that he upheld well – seeming to go through all the proper channels on the surface, when the true impetus behind his ascension was his Geass, and if the rumors told it true, the added threat of knives in the dark.

"I love him, Kallen." The simple, yet powerful admission drew Kallen's attention back, and she watched, stunned, as C.C. clutched the pillow tighter. Gone was the usual mask of cool serenity, and in its place were features raw and unfettered in their emotion – from the quiver in her downcast eyes, to her trembling lower lip, C.C. looked as if she were on the verge of tears. It was… startling, to suddenly have so much revealed on a visage that for so long had given away nearly nothing. "If you saw him now… if you saw what this is doing to him, you'd understand." She smiled, sorrowfully. "I love him, but he doesn't… I can't…." C.C. shook her head, then finished in a quiet, tight voice. "I think only you can get through to him, now."

Kallen spoke gently into the silence. "…And your third reason?"

It took her a moment to reply, C.C. collecting herself visibly, drawing a steadying breath through parted lips. "Tell me," she began, dabbing at her eyes with the edge of a wide white sleeve, "Do you really think of him as evil?" She laid the pillow flat on her lap, smoothing the wrinkles from the pillowcase. "Do you think he's doing all of this for his own sake?"

She didn't answer. Kallen wanted to believe her, and with that unexpected display of emotion, she thought that C.C. could be trusted, but...

C.C. continued, her voice quiet. "His methods can be cruel, yes, but they are a means to a worthy end. This has all been part of his plan, you see – what he calls Zero Requiem. Tomorrow, that plan will reach full fruition." Amber irises slid back to sapphire, the look in her eyes one of solemn resignation, of sad acceptance – a look that made Kallen swallow inadvertently, as she continued in a timbre of chilling finality: "Tomorrow, he will die – and you are the only one with a chance to save him."

* * *

His eyes widening, Lelouch staggered in mid-stride, so startled that he would have fallen, were it not for a clenched grip on the curved door handle he had just turned to step inside his bedroom. It had already been late into the evening when he had retired to his quarters, and noticing the light that crept from beneath the closed, ornately-carved double doors leading to his bed chamber, he had thought that C.C. may have wanted a word with him, but he certainly had not expected... "Kallen," he choked, having to blink several times to ascertain whether the woman he was seeing was real, and not merely a phantom apparition born both out of weary exhaustion and his long-suppressed desire to see her, "...What are you...?"

Wearing? Doing here? Oddly enough, the first of the two questions seemed to be more pressing, as she rose from her seat at the gold-canopied bed, taking a single step toward him onto the lush carpet underfoot. Lelouch couldn't recall ever having seen Kallen in a formal gown, and especially one that would not have looked out of place at the Imperial Court. It was an elegant design of yellow silk trimmed with white, accented by stylized red diamonds at the hips and shoulders. She wore it well, impossibly snug at the bodice, only to flare out in a wide, gently pleated skirt, cut just below the knee at the front, though it appeared to tapering to ankle length at the back. A frilled white collar tied with a red ribbon at her throat complemented the ensemble. She had even straightened her hair.

What lingering hesitance and momentary surprise that marked her features were quickly replaced by a deep, angry scowl, as the single step became a half-dozen more, Kallen smoothly closing the space between them despite the height of her red and ivory high heels. Lelouch, transfixed by the smoldering blue embers of her eyes, did not flinch when her hands became fists in the draping white linen of his imperial robes, forcing him stolidly against the double doors through which he had just entered.

He barely registered the jolt. How long had it been since he had last seen her? Two months… more? After the taking of the Damocles, he had distanced himself from her out of necessity, but now that she was here, within arms reach, it seemed as if all the bottled-up emotion and longing for her came welling back to the surface, summoned by the piercing cobalt augurs staring up at him.

And she, too, was full of emotion – of that there could be no doubt – though its character was of a distinctly different nature. "Lelouch…." She spoke in a low, tight growl of a greeting, seething with ire now breaking the surface, the name seeming to crackle in the air. But what struck him most was the mixed sentiment of her gaze; there was anger there, certainly – that was to be expected. But gone was the horror and disgust with which she had looked upon him at their last, bitter parting – the accusatory eyes that had cut him so deeply, nearly fracturing the façade of wry indifference he had been forced to uphold. Behind the wrath of her glare, he could see pain and doubt, anxiety and sadness, conveyed as clearly to him as the red rimming her eyes attested that she had been weeping. Lelouch understood what that had to mean – he had realized it from the moment he had seen her. That she was here, and further, that she had agreed to wear that dress, affirmed it. She knew.

"C.C.," he muttered under his breath, as if a curse, "…she–". Kallen interjected, the words bitten off through clenched teeth.

"Yes. She told me everything. About you. About your power. About… what will happen tomorrow." At that last, her voice faltered, and she glanced down at his chest, where her hands, fingers clenched, yet pinned him to the door. The way she clamped down hard on her lip made it seem as if apprehension were beginning to overtake her anger, but when her brilliant blue eyes snapped back up to his cool violet, the fury burned all the hotter. "You lied to me," she began harshly, beating her fists on his chest for emphasis, "…you manipulated my feelings, made me hate you, made me think you were…."

He continued smoothly when her speech trailed off. "Evil? A monster?" His tone, calm and collected, stood in marked contrast to her fiery accusations, as he gently but firmly took hold of her wrists, just above the white lace at her sleeves. Those fists were starting to hurt. "That's not far from the truth." Though his inflection never changed, Lelouch understood all too well that he was beginning to fall beneath her spell – from the warmth of her nearness, to the lingering scent of lavender on her skin, calling forth sweet memories of those tender moments together with her – thoughts that would only weaken his resolve. She was too close to him – close enough for a kiss. He had to keep his distance.

Easing her away just enough to sidestep from out against the door, Lelouch released her arms, showing only a hint of visible reluctance, and walked casually toward the carved cherry-wood armoire at the far side of the room. Kallen followed on his heels, her irritation palpable in the weight of her eyes on his back. It was only after he had settled the gold-accented, four-corned mitre on a faceless ebony bust within, and had begun to hang the divided imperial cape and stole, that he addressed her, speaking almost conversationally – matter-of-factly. "Do you remember what I told you, outside my quarters on the Ikaruga?" With his back still to her, he did not wait for her answer, instead pre-empting the reply. "That there was something that I wanted so desperately to achieve that I would give up my morality, my soul – that I would become evil, to have it?" Closing the cabinet doors with a soft click, Lelouch turned, amethyst eyes staring unflinchingly into sapphire blue. "Even if it meant using you – forsaking my love for you and garnering your hatred."

"You could have told me the truth." The scowl had darkened, and she stood just two quick steps away, her arms folded beneath her breasts in a pose of clear feminine agitation. He shook his head, lips twisting wryly.

"And had you known, could you still have brought yourself to fight me?" Despite himself, Lelouch found his own irritation building, and latched onto the feeling. Yes, he had regrets, but in the last two months of reflection, he had come to terms with the fact that this had been the best option – in truth, the only option that would grant her a semblance of a normal life after he was gone. "Or would the feelings you had for me, and the knowledge of my intentions, have swayed you to my side, despite the fact that your only rewards would be the hopeless love for a man destined to die, and a life of lonely exile once Zero Requiem had come to pass?"

"It was my choice to make," she mumbled grudgingly, looking away, the line of her lips pressed into something of an angry pout, suggesting that she knew just how weak that line of defense would prove to be. The sullenness in her expression made him smile inwardly, working to cool the rising irritation inside him. When he spoke, his tone was gentle and familiar, and only barely did he restrain himself from unconsciously lifting a hand to cup her cheek.

"You've always been too rash, Kallen – quick to let your emotions overtake your reason, and cloud your judgment." The affection in his voice took the sting out of the softly spoken admonishment. "I didn't want to put you in that situation, and have you come to regret it."

But if anything, his soothing words had the opposite effect, Kallen's retort sharp and biting as her gaze swung back to him, the flame in her deep blue irises rekindled. "And after the last battle – after you had won?" Taking a step toward him, she let her arms drop to her sides, hands balled into fists so tight that her knuckles turned white with strain. "You could've come to me, explained everything, like you'd promised, and at least I could've spent the past two months with you…." She paused, drawing in a ragged breath as she fought back the tears welling in the corners of eyes, "But instead, I had to hear it all from _her_… and hear it on the night before, when tomorrow you'll…." Averting her eyes, Kallen bit her lower lip, unable to finish her sentence as wet tears rolled down the sides of her face.

Again, he resisted the urge to touch her, to comfort her, now that she was within arm's reach – to enfold her in his embrace and kiss away her tears, to reassure her that he loved her, and that that would never change. But in the end, wouldn't such thoughts only make things more difficult – both for him to let go, and for her, to move on? And yet, by the same token, he couldn't find the strength inside him to send her away – to be ruthless. In his mind, he could picture C.C., staring at him with those unsettling golden eyes: a look that said "I have given you a chance to make amends; do not waste it." And so, he stood his ground, neither giving in to his feelings nor rejecting her outright, and simply answered her unvoiced question. "I never came to you because I didn't deserve your forgiveness." The tight smile that shaped his mouth was bitter, and never touched his eyes. "I didn't deserve whatever happiness may have come from telling you the truth."

And that was when she flung her arms around him, closing the distance so quickly that Lelouch stumbled back against the carved armoire, her clinging embrace tight and desperate, her voice a stifled sob into the white linen of his tunic. "And what about me? Did you ever think about my feelings?" Drawing a long, uneven breath, Kallen tilted her face upward to look at him, moisture staining her cheeks even as new tears welled in her eyes. "Did I _deserve_ to spend two months alone, hating you and hating myself for still feeling something for you?" One of her hands slid higher, to the back of his neck, entangling itself in his hair almost painfully. "And now, after all this time, I'm suddenly told that it was all just an act – that my love for you wasn't misplaced, despite all the time I spent doubting you, second-guessing myself, convincing my heart to deny what felt so real…. Tell me, Lelouch, how am I supposed to respond to that?" Kallen lowered her head and bit her lip hard, those welling tears now falling as her eyes shut tight and she finished, in the faintest whisper, "How do I cope with the fact that the man I loved – no, the man I_ still_ love – will be going to his death tomorrow…?"

Unable to remain stoic amidst the sincerity of her confession, Lelouch felt himself returning her embrace, one hand nestling in the small of her back as the other cradled her head into the curve of his throat. Logic and reason and rationality be damned – he wanted this, wanted to surrender to his emotions, to follow the dictates of his heart knowing full well what tomorrow would bring. He loved her, and that would never change; perhaps it was selfish, but at least for tonight, he would set aside the heavy stole of Emperor, to simply become Lelouch vi Britannia, the man, providing what comfort he could for the woman he loved. "I'm sorry," he murmured softly, tenderly, as the hand at her neck slipped up to smooth her hair, "I'm so sorry, Kallen. I don't expect you to forgive me, but know that I never wanted to put you in this position. You weren't supposed to know – not until after…." Pursing his lips in distaste, Lelouch fell silent, shifting the arm at her waist to hold her closer.

But to his surprise, Kallen pushed back, her hands flat against his chest as her eyes peered up at him from beneath thick lashes. There was a gleam of defiance in that stare, perhaps a lingering ember of the anger that had so taken her before. She mumbled a single word, only barely audible, but as he raised his eyebrows, she repeated it more clearly – what he thought he had heard. "Idiot…" she said again, letting her arms slide loosely around his neck, "I'm here, aren't I? That means I've forgiven you already." A slight hint of color bloomed in cheeks still somewhat damp from her tears, as she continued in a coquettish voice, eyes shyly downcast, "But now that I _am_ in this position, are you going to take responsibility…?"

At her coyness, the trace of a smile flickered across his expression, Lelouch bringing his hand up to carefully cup her chin, tilting her face to look at him. "Of course," he said in reassurance, a small thread of amusement in his inflection as he spoke, "And what is it you ask of me?"

Her demureness fading, Kallen sidled closer, so that he could feel the comforting familiarity of the line of her body pressing up against his own. Looking up at him with eyes still trembling with shadows of doubt, she spoke in a quiet, careful voice, solemn and hesitant in its timbre. "Tell me… and tell me truthfully." Glancing away, she continued in that same uncertain tone. "You've shown me so many masks, so many sides of yourself that it's hard to separate the truth from the lies… so I want to hear it from you." Meeting his gaze again, she smiled, the gesture sad and halfhearted, betrayed by the glossy sheen of tears in her eyes. "Lelouch, tell me… do you love me…?"

The hand at her chin now gently caressing her cheek, Lelouch brushed away a welling tear with the edge of his thumb as he leaned down, close enough that her breath tickled warmly against his skin. "Making you doubt me, hate me… that was the most painful thing I've ever had to do." His voice thick in his throat, he knew the truth behind those words. After Clovis, Shirley, and Euphie, he had thought himself hardened to anything that his chosen path might have him face, and yet the heart-wrenching agony of forcing Kallen to turn against him had shown him just how thin those defenses really were. After that, even using his power against Nunnally had come easily.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he returned to the matter at hand, his fingertips now lightly tracing the edge of her earlobe. "Not a day went by that I didn't question that decision – whether I should have confessed the truth, and prayed that you would understand." He smiled, an almost perfect reflection of the same sorrowful smile she had given him moments ago. "But what I never doubted, not even for a moment, were the feelings I had for you." Lelouch drew a deep breath, and then spoke the words with all the honesty, sincerity, and affection he could muster, his amethyst eyes open and bared, drinking deep of the sapphire blue pools gazing up at him. "I love you, Kallen."

With that intimate admission, she released a breath held in anxious anticipation, her countenance transforming as she smiled radiantly, beautifully, even as more tears welled in the corners of her eyes. If only that moment would have lasted forever, so that he could revel in each subtle sensation, savor every fine detail, from the gossamer softness of the fine hairs at the back of her neck, to the way her hair, in shimmering swaths of deep red, perfectly twinned the hue of rising blush in her cheeks. And, enveloped in her enchanting warmth and the familiar scent of lavender, he kissed her, gently, tenderly, a lingering brush of his lips to hers. He felt her tremble against him, uncertain for just the barest instant, before she returned his kiss, deepening it in turn, reacquainting herself with him in a passion made all the hotter by the time they had spent apart, such that when he finally broke the kiss, his breath was ragged as he asked, amethyst eyes aflame, "…Stay with me tonight?"

She didn't answer – not directly – but instead, pushed him back a step, her eyes downcast, shaded by thick lashes. Lelouch relented, if reluctantly, watching as she walked slowly to the side of the bed, away from him. The bodice of the dress, cut low at the front, was styled similarly at the back, exposing the delicate lines of her shoulder blades in a square, trimmed with red accents and white lace. As if she felt his stare on her, she turned her head, lips slightly parted, one eye regarding him over her shoulder as her hand idly lifted to trace the draping curtains of the bed, gathered in folds and tied at the head post. "On one condition," she murmured coyly, the sultry gleam in her eye making his pulse quicken when she continued, her voice breathless, "…you'll have to help me out of this dress."

* * *

Shifting restlessly atop the otherwise empty bed, C.C. tried, in vain, to find a position that would afford a bit more comfort. That was not to say that the mattress, in itself, was uncomfortable; it was soft and welcoming, Lelouch having spared no expense, and in truth, she herself was accustomed to far worse. But still, the bed was unfamiliar; or rather, it lacked the familiar presence that would have rendered it inviting.

Sleep, she knew, would never come; lying in bed was just a pretense, a formality born out of decades of routine. How could she sleep, knowing what was happening only a few doors down the hall? It was past midnight, surely… would it already be their second time? Or the third? Scowling into the darkness, C.C. hugged his proxy closer – not the usual Cheese-kun plush, but instead, the blue, pillowed hat that she had rightfully won at Ashford Academy, what seemed ages ago.

Had this been the right decision? Again, she considered that question in her mind. She was his partner, his confidante, his accomplice – by all rights, it should have been she who comforted him in his final hour. But if she had been the one awaiting him, would he have taken her in his arms, enticed by the promise of one last night of indulgence? In the past two months, she had slept in his bed, yes, but it had been nothing more than simply sharing his warmth. Only once had she attempted to go further, and he had summarily rejected her advances, showing her his back: cold, rigid, tense. After that, she had not tried again. If she had had the courage to receive him in his bedchamber, bedecked in the finest silks and lace, would he have turned those cold, empty eyes on her, dismissing her as a triviality? She loved him, even if he didn't return her feelings, and that kind of painful rejection would have been all too much to bear, much worse than anxiety and doubt she suffered now. Yes, even if she did not like it – far from liking it, this irritated her to no end – this had been for the best.

She bit her lip, almost hard enough to draw blood. Could she be content with this kind of farewell? There would be no seeing him tonight, not with Kallen sharing his bed, and she had vowed not to witness the execution on the morrow. Nor would she have gone, even had he asked. C.C. knew well the destructive power of memories – how they could, over the decades, eat away at one's sanity; it was for that very reason that she had locked away inside herself all the details of her past lives. What good would it do to add to that already cumbersome burden, the memory of the man she loved, meeting his end? No, there would be no seeing him tomorrow. And as for tonight….

A decidedly naughty idea came to her, and she toyed with it half in jest, and half in serious contemplation – to steal into his bedchamber and take her "goodbye" from him as Kallen slept beside them. That would put him in quite the sticky situation, which even he, the brilliant strategist, might find difficult to overcome. And although it amused her to no end to imagine the look of distress and vexation he would give her when she first made her presence known, she knew that nothing would come of the idle thought. It wouldn't feel right, to take him against his will – especially while the woman who had his heart shared the same bed.

She held the pillowed cap closer, burying her nose in its yielding blue plush. Though it was faint, it still carried his scent – a last, lingering reminder of him, one that was soon to fade, just as her memories of him would disappear, stowed away in a construct of her own making, to spare her sanity. And so, too, would the thought of this bitter goodbye; no matter how heart-wrenching it felt at this moment, it could only become another ripple in the churning vortex of past memories, of lives and loves, all lost to the unending spiral of time. But for now…. C.C. loosened the tight restraint she maintained perpetually over her emotions, and allowed herself to cry.

* * *

Lavender eyes wide, Nunnally stared in stunned shock at the unmoving figure in white before her, crumpled and bloodied, just out of arm's reach – at the figure of her brother. The crowd to either side of the causeway had broken their lines in an uproar, the clamor deafening as they rushed forward to overwhelm the escorting soldiers and free the captives arrayed on separate transports on either side of the caravan. But for Nunnally, nothing existed except for him, her Onii-sama, as he lay dying, gold-trimmed imperial white tunic now indelibly stained red, his skin a deathly pallor, violet eyes shifting in and out of focus. Even now, his shallow breaths were becoming more erratic, more infrequent, his head lolling limply to one side, with only the arrhythmic rise and fall of his chest attesting that he yet lived.

How could this have happened? Only moments before, the procession had slowed to a halt; she had thought that her newly regained sight must be deceiving her, when her gaze had fallen upon the caped form of Zero, alone in the middle of the causeway, as if to singly block their path. But a hushed silence had settled over the onlookers, every eye drawn to the black-clad figure standing in open opposition before the parade. It was impossible; Onii-sama was…. Her head swiveled, staring up the angled float to find her brother, the incredulity that had painted his features now transforming into unbridled fury and outrage. He barked a command, inaudible to her, and suddenly the Knightmares mobilized, the quiet that had descended torn open by the staccato crack of gunfire. Yet Zero was longer standing, but sprinting, moving with a speed nearly too fast to follow, dodging the barrage as he wove ever closer, the ground erupting in long gashes of concrete rubble in his wake.

And then he had reached them, vaulting up the height of the first Knightmare, leaping past Jeremiah – no, not past, but over him, using his shoulder as a foothold – to the lead vehicle, where Schneizel Nii-sama stood chained, and up and over again, landing lightly on the platform where she herself lay manacled, only to spring forward once more, up the height of the main float, to confront the Emperor himself. In a smooth, fluid motion, Zero drew the sword at his hip, simultaneously knocking the pistol out of her brother's hand, and then….

Flinching at the memory, Nunnally pushed it from her mind, but the aftermath was all too visible in the long smear of blood marring the gold-edged purple banner of Britannia, marking the path from where he had toppled from the upper dais and slid down the ramp to her level of the float. "Onii-sama…?" Lelouch gave no response. He couldn't have much time left, not after losing so much blood, and she had to know, she had to understand why. Steeling her will, she forced herself to look at his eyes, doing her best to ignore the blooming red stain at his left middle. That empty gaze was heavy-lidded and somnolent, staring at something unseen in the distance, those once vibrant violet eyes beginning to dim.

Her hand floated only inches above his, suspended by momentary hesitation. This was a talent she had, a gift for empathy, working almost as a sixth sense; with those she knew well, she could feel that person's motives, intentions, and sentiments, even at the barest touch. Steadying herself with a breath, Nunnally grasped her brother's hand in hers.

And that sense overtook her, consumed her, flooding her thoughts with not only auras and emotions, but with a bevy of images – a soundless blur whirling through her mind – yet amidst that onslaught came understanding. Everything he had done since declaring himself Emperor had been to this ultimate end; with a dictator's iron fist, he had ruthlessly conquered his enemies, subjugating them beneath the guise of democracy, all for the purpose of focusing the world's hatred upon himself. And when the demon Emperor fell, slain by Zero, the very symbol of justice, that cycle of hatred would end, and through the institutions of democracy he had created as Zero and solidified as Emperor, the nations of the world could resolve their disputes not by war, but through diplomacy and negotiation. But it was more than that. From the one touch, she knew that part of what he had done had been for her sake – to create world in which she could live happily and without fear.

Tears streamed unnoticed down her cheeks, Nunnally's vision blurring as sobs racked her frail body. She had not wanted this – had not asked for it; how could this world be a better place, if it came at the cost of her one and only Onii-sama? Face stricken with grief, she cried out his name in anguish, clutching herself to him. She wept openly, inconsolably, for a brother she had thought was lost, and had only now been found, but all too late to matter. Her brother, her Onii-sama, was gone.

* * *

At first, there was just the sound. It was a song, or rather, a melody – there were no words to it; pleasant, light, lilting. Unfamiliar in its tune, but the voice... yes, that voice was familiar. A voice that had been a constant companion, ever since the beginning... And then, an image, a woman's visage, coupled so strongly with the voice that to hear the one without picturing the other seemed so unnatural. Eyes that looked like burnished gold, slightly curious, slightly mocking, peering from out of a pale face, her features elegant, chillingly beautiful, framed by perfect falls of silken, green hair. A name. C.C... yet how could that be? The song she hummed was no memory, no illusion, which would only mean... It could only mean that somehow, he was alive.

And with that realization, the rest of his senses began to return to him, but in a piecemeal fashion, as if his mind were just now reacquainting itself with the faculties of his body. First was proprioception – the sensation of body position: he was lying supine, his arms limp at the sides of his body, legs straightened. Movement still seemed beyond him, but with a bit of effort, he could feel his limbs – cold and numb – but his chest was warm, tingling, the feeling blossoming as he concentrated on it, turning into a sharp, throbbing pain, centered at the left side of his torso, just above the line of his ribcage. Ignoring that sensation, he instead tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids seemed too heavy, almost leaden, and it took a deliberate effort lift them, as though even the flutter of eyelash were too tasking. When he did manage, and his vision refocused, Lelouch found himself looking up at a sky of foreboding black spires, gleaming with muted, dissociated stars – a sky that made no sense to him, but one that nagged at some half-buried memory, some vague thought or connection floating just beyond his mind's reach.

Abruptly he realized that the humming had stopped, the absence of which seeming to conjure her familiar form, above him, C.C. clothed in the same white restraint suit in which he had found her, those intent golden eyes looking down at him amidst a shrouding curtain of green. "You're awake," she murmured as she swept back the matted locks of his black hair, laying her hand gently against his forehead. "And the fever has broken, as well." Her fingers felt cool as they lingered on his skin, those polished eyes considering him for a time before she withdrew her touch.

In the moments of silence, Lelouch took stock of his surroundings. What he had mistaken for a distorted starlit sky was rather a spreading expanse of stalactites, wetly reflecting the light from a single fluorescent lantern illuminating the interior of the high-ceilinged cavern. The makeshift pallet on which he lay cushioned, if only thinly, the cave floor beneath, and the ground was uneven besides, with rough points digging into his back and hip. Turning his head slightly, he glimpsed from the corner of his eye a bit of yellow – indicating that the pillow that propped his head up at a slight angle was, in fact, C.C.'s Cheese-kun plush.

It dawned on him then where he must be – the image of C.C. in her white uniform bridging the connections to that hazy, familiar memory, and drawing it to the surface of recollection. He had carried her to this very place after she had suffered a wound from shrapnel and had fallen unconscious, and he had tended her until she woke. It was here, in a cavern amidst the mountains of Narita, that he had learned something of the person she had been before Geass – it was here that she had let slip her real name.

He opened his mouth to speak – control was coming easier now – but his voice would not come, Lelouch realizing only then that his throat was terribly dry, that his lips felt unbearably parched. The tip of his tongue slipped out in an attempt to moisten them, and C.C., seeing the gesture, turned away for a moment, rustling in some unseen pack beside her, to produce a clear bottle of water and a small, scalloped dish. "Here," she murmured, filling the dish and lifting it to his lips, "Drink." He did.

At first, it hurt to swallow, but want of water overcame that discomfort; she had refilled the dish for a third time when he finally was able to speak, though in no more than a hoarse croak, asking after the bottle. She hesitated, her brow twitching, but then obliged, holding it for him as he drank deeply, but too quickly, Lelouch sputtering as some of the liquid caught in his throat; he coughed, and when it had settled, C.C. dabbed at his chin with the edge of her sleeve. "...Thank you," he managed, his voice somewhat more even than before. "How long...?"

"Tomorrow will be the third day, since your..." She let her words fade, those yellow eyes flickering unconsciously to his middle. Brow drawing down and changing the subject, C.C. looked back up at him with a tight smile. "I had dinner a little while ago, but there's a bit of stew left over... it might still be warm. You are hungry, Lelouch?" It was more statement than question, and though the thought of food sparked a sharp growl from his stomach, his mind was elsewhere. He nodded absently, barely noticing C.C. as she rose smoothly and stepped out of his field of vision.

Three days gone, with little to show for it save for a few snatches of fitful dreams, lingering like cobwebs in his memory. So much would have happened in the time of upheaval following his presumed death. Could the structure and stability he had imposed upon the nations of the world, embodied by the U.F.N., still hold fast amidst the vacancy of power left by his deposition – a void that would be filled not by one man alone, but a delegation of representatives? Or would they revert back to what they were before – splintered groups and weak alliances, motivated only by their own self-interest, with even Zero, symbol and savior, unable to keep them united?

And there was Nunnally's welfare to consider, too – he had made careful arrangements to ensure that she rose smoothly to the place of Empress of Britannia after his fall, but Lelouch knew all too well that even the best laid plans could go awry, and so much more so when left untended. Now that he was alive, he could influence events in real time, if only from the shadows, ensuring a bloodless transition from dictatorship to world democracy. Now that he was alive, he could–

That thought ended abruptly when he tried to sit up, the pain in his side roaring to the surface so viciously that it banished all else. When he managed to breathe, it was through tightly clenched teeth, and even then it was more an inward groan than breath; it felt as if the sword were running him through all over again, but instead of cold steel, the blade were wrought of white hot flame, the searing agony radiating throughout his side.

And then C.C. was beside him, the soup for the moment forgotten, her white hands gently but firmly easing him to lie back down on the narrow pallet. Dimly he was aware of her mutterings – something about "a foolish boy" said under her breath, despite the thread of concern in her voice – but it was as if heard through another man's ears, as taken as he was by the overbearing, mind-numbing sensation. It was fading, but slowly, the pain that had constricted his chest now relenting enough to allow him to draw a shallow breath. Lelouch felt more than saw C.C. dabbing at his forehead with a folded handkerchief, where beads of cold sweat had broken out across his brow.

Lelouch did not resist, allowing her push him down onto the pallet, her left hand keeping him pinned as her right fussed with the kerchief. His jaw clenched, and only in part against the lingering pain; perhaps he was being foolish, yet "stubborn and impulsive" were certainly not in it. But rather, he had been so long immersed in the plotting, intrigues, and strife surrounding global affairs, that to be suddenly torn away from that life was… jarring, to say the least. To be, in effect, dead to the world.

When C.C. was certain that he would not attempt to sit up again – and the sharp-eyed gaze she fixed on him suggested she may not be as gentle with him were he to try – she carefully peeled back the linen sheet that covered him, revealing the pallid skin of his chest and lower torso, the latter wrapped several times over with strips of layered bandages. Despite her former glare, her fingers were careful as she delicately inspected the wrappings, over what he presumed must be thick gauze, padded snugly beneath the tight bandages. "Good," she said at last, shifting her attention back up to him, "it seems that you haven't torn your stitches. I hope that serves to tell you that you aren't fit to move – not yet. What you need is rest, Lelouch." Just as carefully, she drew the blanket up around his chest, settling it beneath his underarms. "Rest, and food. A thin broth is all I've been able to get into you, and that only when you were lucid enough to swallow."

He nodded, and C.C. turned to retrieve what she had set down upon rushing to his side – a small pouch of metallic foil, torn open at the top. He arched an eyebrow. "Field rations?"

With shrug, she produced a spoon and began to stir the stew absently. "They're certainly not my preferred cuisine, but they're edible, at least. There isn't much else available, this far into the mountains." Satisfied with its consistency, C.C. proffered him a spoonful, her lips quirked in amusement. "Say 'Ahhh'."

He eyed the offering doubtfully – the sauce was thick and dark, smelling sharply of spices, and he thought he could recognize what might be a cube of carrot along with a chunk of some unidentifiable, dark gray meat – but hunger overcame his sense of fastidiousness, and he accepted the first spoonful, chewing carefully. It was over-seasoned – a common failing of emergency reserves, to help prolong their shelf life – and was slightly chalky and bitter besides, as though it had been left too long together with its chemical heater. Still, he ate what was left in the pouch – or rather, was spoon-fed the remainder of its contents, C.C. barely allowing him to swallow before insisting on the next bite.

Setting down the spoon and the now empty foil pouch, C.C. began to turn away, reaching out for the water bottle, but he forestalled her, catching her wrist with his right hand, in more firm a grip than he thought he could muster given the circumstances. Though her eyes widened in slight surprise, she recovered in an instant, her countenance blank as golden eyes shifted back to meet coldly cutting amethyst. "Your Code," he said quietly, his voice devoid of any emotion and sounding all the more chilling at the lack, "you've passed it to me." He waited – not expectantly, but passively, for affirmation of what he already knew to be true.

She studied him, her features smooth and unchanging despite the implicit accusation and the weight of his stare. For the briefest moment, a thread of emotion flickered across her face – sorrow, tinged with hurt – but it was lost as she gently shook her head, the green falls of her hair swaying softly with the movement. "Does my word mean so little to you, Lelouch?" Her lips curved in a sad, mirthless smile, as she glanced at his hand, he still holding her wrist. "I promised that I would not force this on you, and I did not. Not even to save your life." C.C. lifted her other hand to her head, pushing back tapered green bangs to reveal the dark red symbol of her Code, a diving bird with wings upswept. "Not mine," she murmured, eyes lifting back up to regard his own, her stare intent and unwavering, "Charles'."

Stunned, Lelouch released his hold on her, so consumed in his own thoughts that he hardly noticed C.C. ostentatiously rubbing her wrist. Coming to a sudden realization, he opened his right hand, turning his palm upward, knowing exactly what he would find there. And sure enough, incised there in his skin, as if it were a part of him, lay the deep red mark of the Code – his Code – a perfect twin to that gracing C.C.'s forehead. "Charles…" he said to himself in breathy disbelief, dark brows drawing downward as he contemplated the sigil. "But why…?"

Sitting back on her heels, C.C. shrugged lightly, setting her hands on her lap and idly toying with one of the metal buckles sewn into her sleeves. "I don't know why, Lelouch. I've been considering it for some time, though. Perhaps he did it out of a simple act of spite – to curse you with immortal life, thinking you could not bring yourself to pass the Code to another." The corners of her mouth curved upward in a humorless smile, her attention shifting back to him with an unnerving intentness. "And if you did, that would be a punishment in itself, no?"

C.C. leaned to one side, retrieving the half empty water bottle and handing it to him; he accepted, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip, if mostly to clear his mouth of the lingering chalky aftertaste from the overcooked stew. "But just as likely," she continued, "more so, perhaps, Charles may not have had a choice in the matter. I do not think a Code can be destroyed, even in the World of C – only transferred. And you were a prime candidate. Either is better than the alternative…." The gleam in her eyes made her mirthless smile all the more sinister as she added, in quiet foreboding, "…that the World of C is not finished with you yet."

Lelouch returned her stare with a level look over the tilted end of the water bottle, the ambiguity of her last supposition having given him pause. He did not know which was more unsettling – the possibility that his particular type of influence would be needed so soon, or the notion that the collective unconscious made physical in the World of C was sentient enough to have "intentions", much less any actual "plans".

For the first, he had lost so much, perpetrating unforgivable atrocities and trading away his morality, his humanity, all for the sake of achieving the noble end of a lasting peace. It was disturbing to think that it may all have been for naught – that despite everything, the depth of sacrifice would yield such meager fruit.

With Zero Requiem, he had been prepared to die, as a form of atonement, if only partly, for having used his Geass on others. In a very real way, he _had_ died – and not only in the fact that he remembered dying. There could be no going back to his life before the Code; if word got out that he was alive, that the public event of his death had been pre-concocted in collusion with Zero himself, then the painstakingly wrought peace following Zero Requiem would all fall to shambles. At best, the U.F.N. would splinter into much the same factions that existed prior to his father's campaign of world conquest. At worst, some unforeseen power would rise to fill the void left in the wake of his death, and the world would again be plunged into an era of war and turmoil. He could not allow that to happen, even if it meant leaving Japan – which it most certainly did, as here, his face was all too well known. He _would_ not allow that to happen, even if it meant cutting off all ties to everything – and every_one_ – in his old life.

As for the other…. The little he knew of the World of C he had pieced together from the tidbits that C.C. had let slip and from his own encounters with his father, and afterward, his mother, in the Sword of Akasha. All human beings, alive and dead, were part of the collective unconscious – the same souls, spun out endlessly, to be born anew, live, and die, in perpetuity, but remaining always as a part of the whole.

The only exception to this were Code bearers, who stood apart from that whole; upon death, they returned not to the collective unconscious, but to the same unchanging flesh, for as long as they bore the Code. Moreover, the Code granted the bearer the ability to bind contracts with those still bound within the collective unconscious. Binding the contract was not the same as bestowing the power of Geass. Rather, it was a sort of awakening, a form of transcendence – the realization that all souls were connected, and as such, they could be influenced. Geass itself was the power born from that knowledge, taking advantage of the link bridged between souls by the collective unconscious in order to affect the mind of another.

But as such, Geass was an artifact of the collective unconscious, and not of the Code bearer's making; this was likely why the power tended to manifest itself differently across individuals, attuning to the person himself, as opposed to the one binding the contract. Further, this explained why users of Geass could still have the Geass of another cast upon them – though awakened, they still were a part of the collective unconscious, and were hence susceptible to the weakness that that connection provided. On the other side of that coin, Code bearers, who had been excised from that network, were immune; there was no link, no conduit, via which the power could travel.

Abruptly a thought struck him, and his brow furrowed; his eyes, having never left C.C., now regained their focus, as though seeing her for the first time. In the intervening silence, she had held his gaze, unflinching as it was while he had lost himself in deep contemplation. For some reason, a faint blush tinged her otherwise pale cheeks, and he noticed too her fingers worrying over one of the buckles at her sleeves. To show nervousness was unlike her, but he dismissed it, returning to thought that had brought him out of his ruminations.

"With Charles' Code," he began, carefully replacing the cap back on the water bottle, "…what of my Geass?" Oddly, his voice sounded slurred in his ears; he wet his lips, as if to help loosen his tongue. "…Is it still… intact?"

She gave him that same mirthless smile. "If you could see yourself through my eyes, you wouldn't have needed to ask. I had to remove your contact lenses as you slept, but I'm afraid they'll do you no good now, in any case." She stretched out her hand.

Lelouch stared at her upturned palm for a moment, puzzled. Oh yes, the water bottle. Slowly, he handed it back to her, but it nearly fell from his grasp before she caught it; his fingers felt weak, his arm impossibly heavy. It was becoming difficult to focus, as though a blanket had been drawn over his mind, muddling his thoughts. What was that she had meant, about his contact lenses? Of course. She had warned him once, long ago now, it seemed, that overusing the power would eventually deem even the lenses useless in masking it. Which meant that he retained it still – his Geass. That confirmation should have been more momentous, but he felt so exhausted, so tired, that a slight nod in affirmation was all the response he could muster.

He knew there was something wrong with him – despite the boost of energy from the meal, now he could hardly think in a straight line. And then suddenly, the fog parted, if only somewhat, allowing him to make the connection: C.C. stirring the stew, its slightly chalky, bitter aftertaste, the insistence with which she spooned it into him, and her nervousness as she waited for the drug to take effect. "You…." He trailed off, unable to say the words, his tongue thick in his throat.

"I gave you something," she admitted, "…but only to help you sleep," she added quickly, her look abashed as she shifted beneath his accusatory stare, the blush now full in her cheeks. "I'm sorry… but you _do_ need rest, Lelouch." Visibly, she collected herself, exhaling in a long breath and offering him an apologetic smile. "In the morning, when you wake, we will talk, but until then, you must sleep." Leaning over him, he could feel the locks of her hair tickling his skin as she bent down to bestow a light kiss on his lips.

"Sleep, Lelouch," she murmured softly, her large amber irises catching the light, filling his slowly narrowing field of vision as his now leaden eyelids began to slide shut. "Sleep, my prince." And then, blackness consumed him, a blackness haunted by a pair of intent, luminous golden eyes.

* * *

Lelouch woke to the familiar feeling of warmth nestling against his right side – of C.C. curling contentedly into the crook made by his chest and upper arm, her head resting atop his shoulder. It seemed that she had switched off the lantern before making up her bedding beside his and summarily helping herself to her pillow, but the dim early morning light trickled in from the entrance of the cave, refracting along the slick cavern walls and providing just enough illumination by which to see. Lelouch tilted his head to look at her; deep in sleep, she wore an innocent, serene countenance, her lips just slightly parted as she drew slow, even breaths.

She had been right, both about the rest, and the food. Though a lingering haze remained at the edges of his mind – courtesy of the last dregs of whatever she had slipped into his dinner – the fire in his left middle had subsided considerably, dulled to a low, pulsing throb centered just beneath his last rib. There was no denying he would have to favor his left side for some time yet, but he felt confident enough to at least sit up without being overwhelmed by the pain… provided that he could do something about the girl still tucked snugly into the curve of his chest.

Not wanting to wake her, he carefully extricated himself, supporting her neck with his upper arm just long enough to slide the Cheese-kun plush beneath her head. She stirred at the sudden loss of his warmth, unconsciously clutching the thick blanket they shared more tightly, but her breathing did not change, the deep sleep a testament of how tired she herself must have been after having tended him for nearly three days.

Mindful of the wound in his side, he slipped out the rest of the way from beneath the blankets, moving slowly and deliberately as to not unsettle them too much. The cave held little heat, and the cold morning air pebbled his exposed skin; it was rather difficult to ignore the chill, especially when he discovered that aside from the strips of bandages wrapped about his chest, he wore not a stitch of covering. Irritably he rose, rubbing his forearms with his hands for warmth, and received a painful twinge at his side for his haste. Perhaps C.C. had sidled against him in sleep as much for shared body heat as for companionship. Perhaps.

Clenching his jaw both at the stinging at his side and to keep his teeth from chattering, Lelouch strode quickly to where C.C. had laid out her pack, against a large stalagmite that had begun to meet its inverted twin to form an hourglass-shaped column. A large pile of discarded rags, white spotted with red, made him frown – C.C. had never been one for fastidiousness, and apparently she had cut up what was left of his Emperor's garb as makeshift bandaging.

Turning his attention back to the pack, he sorted through her things until he found what he sought – a change of clothing, specifically, what appeared to be the black slacks of his Ashford Academy uniform and a spare white long-sleeved shirt. The patent leather loafers he had spotted right away, toes poking out from under the backpack. He donned the pants and shoes quickly, willing to bear the discomfort of moving too fast if it meant protection against the cold, but he hesitated at the shirt, eyeing instead the bandages that bound his chest. Coming to a decision, he undid the metal fastener and unraveled them carefully, baring the skin beneath.

To his surprise, the stitching with which C.C. had sewn him up came away with the gauze, as if expelled by his body. The wound had closed, the flesh re-knitting itself to leave only an angry red slash of raised, half-healed scar tissue. He examined it lightly with his fingers; it was tender to the touch, but he doubted that there was much risk in reopening the wound, if he took care.

"It will never heal, not fully – the mortal wound that awakens the Code. The pain will fade, given time, but the scar will always remain. Though I suppose you know that already." Lelouch regarded her over his shoulder as he continued to dress, shrugging on the shirt and beginning to do up the buttons. She lay on her side, lounging, her head propped up on her right hand, elbow bent. The blanket pooled at her left hip, revealing the low-cut strapless one-piece undergarment she wore beneath her restraint suit.

"Charles' Code revived him only minutes after he died," he observed offhandedly as he turned back toward her, pausing only to switch on the fluorescent lantern set up next to her things, which cast a gentle white nimbus throughout the cavern. His fingers now nimbly fastened the buttons at his sleeves. "Yet it took me nearly three days to recover. Why?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Catlike, she stretched, sitting up and languidly reaching both arms overhead, then splaying them to either side. "Perhaps it was because the Code was dormant for so long inside you. Or maybe your Geass interfered with the Code asserting itself." She shrugged, dropping her arms and leaning back on her hands. "Either way, it worked in your favor, didn't it? The world believes you to be dead."

Abruptly deciding she had spent enough time in bed, C.C. threw back the coverlet and rose smoothly to her feet, padding lightly across the cavern floor to stand before him; she showed no sign of being affected by the cold, despite bare limbs. "You should consider yourself lucky," she mused, at first straightening a collar that did not need straightening, then proceeding to smooth shoulders that needed no smoothing, "in less civilized times, your body would likely have been dragged through the streets, if not quartered. You'd have found waking from that to be rather… unpleasant, I think."

Lelouch bore her attentions with a good a grace as he could muster, his violet eyes studying her covertly while she fussed over his clothing. He had had a taste of those "unpleasant" memories, as a consequence of inadvertently delving into her consciousness what seemed so long ago. He suppressed a shiver that had little to do with the cold. That she could remark upon that kind of suffering with casual amusement made him wonder what wealth of experience lay behind those burnished gold eyes – her lives and loves, lost in the swirl of time, overwhelming her such that she had voluntarily locked away her memories to retain a semblance of sanity, all driving toward her one last wish: release. She was his confidante and companion, privy to secrets he had kept even from Kallen, and yet she remained largely a mystery to him. As if reading his mind, C.C. gazed up at him, her smile knowing and her amber eyes gleaming.

He stilled her hands by taking them in his, though his gaze was hard as he met her stare. "And who else knows the truth – that I'm alive? You couldn't have brought me here unaided." It wasn't that he doubted her ability – on the contrary, he had a very acute estimation of what she was capable of – but rather, absconding with his body even in the chaos following his death would not have gone unremarked… unless she had help.

A fine brow arching in challenge, C.C.'s lips quirked, golden gaze considering him for a long moment. At last, she gave a dismissive flick of her hand, the metal buckles adorning her wide sleeves clinking with the motion. "Suzaku knows, of course. Not everything, but enough. He saw your hand." She moved past him, walking the short distance to where her pack lay propped up against the tapering column. "He does not believe you intended this," she said over her shoulder, "…otherwise you'd have likely woken up in a stasis capsule – if you woke at all. He was the one who contacted me, afterward." Bending at the waist, she unzipped one of the pack's large front pockets and turned back to him, now holding two foil pouches in her hands. "And Jeremiah. That man would follow you to the ends of the earth, I think. The supplies and transport came from him."

Trying to suppress a grimace, Lelouch accepted one of the packets, absently turning it about in his hands. Checking to make sure it wasn't tampered with, he realized, and C.C. seemed to sense it as well, flashing a small smirk. He did not look forward to another meal of field rations, to be sure, but the hunger gnawing at his middle would not discriminate. "Suzaku," he said quietly as he followed her to the unmade pallet, C.C. kneeling on the coverlet while he leaned his back against a short stalagmite, to favor his side. "He must have given terms for my release."

C.C. shrugged, most of her attention focused on opening the foil packet and perusing its contents. "What you might expect, I suppose. You've been exiled, Lelouch. He wants you to disappear, to leave Japan, and involve yourself no longer in world affairs, either openly or covertly." Leaning the empty main pouch against a small rock, she unwrapped and added the chemical heating pad, then proceeded to fill it up halfway from her water bottle. Soon enough, steam began to rise from the open end of the bag as the heating pad oxidized and the water started to boil.

Following suit, Lelouch chewed on one of the white biscuits included with the meal as he waited for the water to heat, adding the divided pouch of the entrée after it reached full boil. The biscuit was very dry, moistened just a bit by a single-serving packet of strawberry jelly, but he chewed mechanically, trying to ignore the taste, and washed the last of it down with a swig from his water bottle. "Only Suzaku and Jeremiah, then?" he asked offhandedly, the forced casualness in his voice making the care with which he phrased the question all the more obvious.

C.C. flashed him that knowing half-smile again, clearly seeing through his attempt at subterfuge, as she sucked on the last bit of jelly from the squeezed-empty packet. "She doesn't know," she said finally, her attention turning downward, tentatively checking the meal pouches with thumb and forefinger. "I didn't think it was my place to tell her, now that things are… as they are."

They broke fast in silence, a meal of hard sausage and an ample complement of scrambled eggs, the first having only toughened with heating to more closely resemble jerky, and the latter of which had conformed to the shape of the pouch as they cooked. C.C. barely picked over the food, whereas Lelouch ate without tasting, his attention having turned inward. He was well aware of what he had been doing – attempting to shift his focus elsewhere so that his mind wouldn't linger on thoughts of Kallen. It was to distance himself, as means of coping with the course of action to which he was already committed, even before hearing of Suzaku's demands.

In a way, his question had been unnecessary. Had Kallen known that he was alive, then he would've wakened to find her there in C.C.'s stead, tending to him as he recovered. Lelouch had asked just to reaffirm his deduction. But it was all for the best, now that things were as they were; there could have been no cleaner a break between them, with Kallen believing him dead. She would mourn, but that would pass in time, and eventually she would come to feel for another, what she felt for him. Detached as he was, that thought did not pain him as much as it may have before.

And besides, from a rational standpoint, there was little he could offer, and in turn, so much that she would lose, if he made his survival known to her. How could he ask her to abandon her mother, her friends, cutting off all ties with those she loved, emigrating from the very country for which she had sacrificed so much, in her fight to liberate Japan? It was for those very reasons that he had denied her complicity in Zero Requiem. He had made the choice for her, then, and she had resented him for it, just as she would resent him for this choice too, were she to know. But that did not mean it was not the right choice.

Even if she did choose to go with him – and even that was uncertain, a thought in itself disconcerting – it would be a poor bargain, with things as they now were. His was to be a life not only as an exile, but as a nomad, never settling in one place for too long, both for fear of recognition and to avoid, for the most part, contact with other people. They would have one another, yes, but would that be enough? Further, Lelouch was not naïve; he could only imagine the strain that his immortality would place on their relationship. Embittered by regret for the life she had given up, would she grow resentful, as the years wore on her but left him untouched? C.C. had once said that the power of kings would isolate him. Those words rang all the more true for the power of gods.

Yet despite the number of logically sound reasons against it that he tallied in his head, Lelouch couldn't quite suppress the desire within him to see her again. He loved her, and a part of him, and a considerable part, in truth, wanted nothing more than to hold her close, one last time, to breathe in her scent, to kiss her – logic and reason and consequence be damned. He quelled the thought forcibly. After everything she had been through, after all that he had put her through, Kallen deserved better – she deserved a chance at real happiness. And to give her that chance, he would shelve his feelings. He would let her go.

"So what will you do…?" C.C. asked tentatively into the silence, drawing him back to the present with a momentary start. She could not read his mind – surely, that must be beyond her – but the impression she gave, that of the immortal witch, sometimes made him wonder. Having long since finished her breakfast, C.C. sat with her knees drawn up, tucked against her chest and held close by her arms. Her head was tilted slightly, so that only one golden eye regarded him pensively, the other obscured by a swath of green hair. He furrowed a brow, and she continued, clarifying the question. "You have both your Geass and a Code; I don't need to tell you how potent that combination can be. With that kind of power, are you really content to just disappear?"

Amethyst gaze narrowing, Lelouch studied her for a brief moment, and when he replied it was in guarded tones. "You of all people know that what I did – what we did – wasn't for my own ambitions." It was true. He had had the world at his fingertips – or perhaps more appropriately, he had held it at the point of a sword. If he wished to rule, then he could have just as easily maintained his position as Emperor, and forced peace with an iron hand. But that would only serve to perpetuate the cycle of hatred, and eventually, either during his reign of afterward, the world would revert to what it was, rife with violence and bloodshed. Any chance of significant, lasting peace lay not in dictatorship, but diplomacy. Yet C.C. knew all of this, and he began to suspect, with growing apprehension, just what motive lay behind the asking.

She nodded to herself absently, as if expecting the answer, that single yellow iris having taken on a predatory gleam. "So you have accomplished all that you intended, with Geass." Slowly, languidly, she moved toward him on her hands and knees, looking like nothing so much as a she-leopard closing in on unsuspecting prey. "I've fulfilled my side of our contract," she said huskily when she stopped, her face bare inches away from his and her breath a warm murmur against his lips. "It's time for you to fulfill yours. Grant my wish, Lelouch. Take my Code." So close, those haunting eyes of burnished gold overwhelmed his vision, intent and unwavering, as if gazing into the very depths of his soul.

With unyielding stone behind and her legs and arms to either side, Lelouch was very well and truly cornered. She wasn't touching him, not yet, and he surmised that only the barest contact was necessary for C.C. to transfer her Code, but there was not a doubt in his mind that she would not force it on him, should he refuse. If that were her aim, she could have done so when he lay unconscious, and he would have woken to find her body lifeless beside his. That, and she had given her word. And it was a promise that she would never break; though many things about her remained a mystery, Lelouch knew how she had inherited her Code – it had been thrust upon her by her forebearer, a woman whom she had loved and trusted, but who had deceived and betrayed her, using her only as a means to end her own immortal life.

The silence that fell in the wake of her request stretched on for what seemed an eternity, his violet stare meeting her yellow without flinching. With her so near, his pulse had quickened involuntarily, but his breathing was calm and even, and his countenance was smooth, revealing not the barest hint of his intentions. C.C. had been with him from the beginning, and with their pact, she had made everything possible; in more ways than one, he owed her his life. He had promised to grant her wish, promised to let her die, smiling, and yet….

When he still did not reply, her eyelids slowly drifted shut, C.C. tentatively closing the fingerbreadth of distance between them. But at the last moment, he tilted his head away, so that her kiss brushed not his lips, but the corner of his mouth. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, and he felt her tremble, a shiver of warmth along the line of his jaw. And then, as if all her hopes were dashed, she collapsed against his right side, shifting into the curve of his chest although their legs remained a tangle, with her cheek pressed to the side of his neck. Instinctively he let his arm slip around her waist, supporting her as she embraced to him, C.C. still mindful of the wound at his left middle. He felt no wetness, no tears – only her long, deep breaths, each followed by a shuddered exhalation.

Not wanting to draw out his refusal, Lelouch changed the subject, still speaking softly, but matter-of-factly. "I'll get in touch with Jeremiah and arrange for our pick up; with his help, it should be easy enough to secure transportation out of Japan. Perhaps to Australia, or one of the less populous nations of the E.U., so there's less of a chance that I'll be recognized. We can leave–" She cut him off.

"I won't be going with you, Lelouch." Paradoxically, she clung to him even tighter, unwilling to let go despite her words. "If you won't take my Code, then it's here that we part ways."

Still faintly stunned by her admission, Lelouch blinked several times, letting the statement sink in. "Why...?" he heard himself ask, his left hand moving by its own accord to hold her at the nape of her neck. C.C. had been at his side for so long that he had never considered the possibility that she might leave him. Even when their plans had been set to culminate in his death, C.C. had remained steadfast, willing to see all of it through until the end. When he had awoken to his newfound immortal life, he had taken solace in the knowledge that she would be there for him, a constant companion, so that the decades would not wear on so unbearably. Had he taken that for granted…?

"You know why. If it can't be you, then I must find another who can free me from this curse." She chuckled, stifled softly against the side of his throat, but the sound held no mirth and was heavy with cynicism besides. "You've made my task harder, I think, with how you've changed the world… but eventually I will find someone. Perhaps we will even meet again, before the end." C.C. tried to push away from him, but he would not release her, and so after a moment, she relaxed, settling back with a soft sigh.

Lelouch released a long breath, one he had been unaware of holding. He had resigned himself to losing Kallen – despite how much it pained him, that had been necessary – but now he was on the verge of losing C.C., as well. That thought had shaken him to his core, making the long years ahead seem all the more lonely and foreboding. But he hadn't lost her yet. He spoke in a careful voice, his words low and intimate. "Stay with me," he began, fingertips stroking the fine hairs at the back of her neck, "Stay by my side, where you belong. It was my vow to you, wasn't it…? That if you were a witch, then I would become your warlock." He paused, drawing in a deep breath, then finished in a murmur, "…Your wish – your true wish – maybe I can still fulfill it. You would never have to be alone again."

When she tried to push herself back, this time he relented, allowing her to shift just enough to look up at him. In the dimly refracted half-light of the cavern, her features seemed more delicate, more vulnerable, than he had ever remembered, from the way that her lower lip quivered ever so slightly, to the way that her eyes, wide and luminous, searched his own. It was not quite the innocence and inexperience of C.C. the slave girl, but not too far different, either. This was C.C. herself – not the ageless witch, but the woman beneath, after all the masks, the pretenses, were cast away. "Is that a confession, Lelouch?" she asked in a quiet whisper. So uncharacteristic of her, there was no mocking, no bemusement, in either her voice or her expression – just a trembling hesitance and frail uncertainty, her emotions laid bare. "Are you saying that you… love… me?"

Flustered by her unexpected openness, Lelouch, much to his chagrin, found that his reply was difficult to voice, the words escaping him. To lie was out of the question, not when she gazed up at him with that look in her eyes. "No–," he uttered, then grimaced, amending the tightness in his voice, "–Yes… I–, I don't know." Drawing a breath to steady and collect himself, he continued in a more level tone, his gaze having never strayed from hers. "What I'm trying to say is, you've always been more than just a friend to me – more than just my accomplice." He had come to realize that when she had lost her memories following the attack on the Geass Directorate. What he felt for her was not love, exactly – it was not what he felt for Kallen, certainly – but it not so dissimilar, either, if somewhat different in scope. In a way, she was a part of him, tied to him by strings of fate; losing her would be to lose a part of himself. "I care about you… deeply. Stay with me, and in time, that might grow into something more."

Wordlessly, she leaned forward, her stare intent and searching, as if to make certain that he would not turn away a second time; only when her lips met his did she lower her lashes, and he followed suit, closing his eyes. It was a timid, tentative kiss, the barest brush of the warmth and softness of her mouth along his. She made no move to deepen their connection, and so neither did he, Lelouch remaining still even as he felt her tremble against him. It lasted just a moment longer, but it was C.C. who broke it off, withdrawing as slowly and as deliberately as she had leaned in. When he opened his eyes, he found C.C. with her gaze downcast, a bitter smile tight in the curve of her lips. "Perhaps you do care about me," she intoned sadly as she looked back up toward him, golden eyes sorrowful beneath a curtain of thick eyelashes, "…but there's no question that you're still in love with her." Her hand lifted to gently stroke his cheek. "That's why I can't stay with you."

To that, he gave no reply, except to grimace faintly and avert his eyes. She seemed to accept that as an answer, for she gently untangled herself from him, removing his arm from around her waist and his hand from the nape of her neck. Lelouch did not protest as she lightly rose to her feet and stepped away. He felt… tired. Drained. Defeated. In a moment, he would steel himself, harden his resolve and garner the strength to move forward, but right then, he was content to let the feeling of loss soak into him – the regret, the sadness. For the life he had ended, for the love that he had willingly turned aside, and for the companion who was soon to leave him. If this was what C.C. had been through in her innumerable years of immortal life, then there was little wonder why she had locked away her memories in a partition of her mind; it was a burden that could crush one's spirit.

When he shifted his attention back to her, C.C. had already donned her characteristic white restraint suit and was just slipping on her second high-heeled white boot. She gave him a sidelong glance as she tugged the boot firmly into place, and then zipped the thigh closures of the suit down to just above either knee. "Here," she said, straightening and drawing something out of her wide left sleeve to toss it to him. He caught it clumsily, trapping it against his chest with his hand. It was her cell phone. "I'm taking the truck outside. Jeremiah's awaiting your call." She knelt at the far end of her pallet, rolling it up together with the coverlet and cinching the buckle tight.

Regaining his composure in a long, indrawn breath, Lelouch stood unsteadily, having to catch his balance with a hand on the stalagmite beside him. The wound below his left rib flared up at the sudden motion, but it was a distant pain, something he could ignore, wrapped up in a shroud of indifference as he was. His gaze followed her as she walked to the column where she had propped up her backpack, kneeling to fasten on the bedroll. "Where will you go?" he asked levelly, and C.C. paused in her work, tilting her head slightly as if considering the question, though she still did not meet his eyes.

"Does it matter?" she replied quietly before going back to tightening the remaining straps. "I'll be fine on my own, if that's what you're worried over. I've lasted this long, haven't I?" she added, the thread of amusement thick in her voice. There was no question that C.C., the woman, was gone; it was C.C., the ageless witch who spoke with him now. "Don't come looking for me." Getting to her feet, she slung the pack over one shoulder and finally faced him. Her burnished gold eyes seemed to glint in warning, though her countenance was perfectly smooth, her thoughts unreadable. "If I need you, I'll find you." Hesitation flashed briefly across her visage, and after a moment, she let out a small sigh, her features softening to offer him one last regretful half-smile. "Farewell, Lelouch." And with that, she turned her back to him, the scuff of her boots on stone echoing faintly as she walked away.

Clenching his jaw, Lelouch's fist tightened on the cell phone almost to the point of breaking it, but so caught up was he in his vexation that he neither noticed nor cared. This wasn't how it was supposed to be – not how it was supposed to end…! "Wait!" he called out after her in a voice roughened by frustration bubbling to the surface, "…stop, C.C.!" She paid him no heed, her footfalls maintaining the same even rhythm as they had before. Grimacing, he caught up quickly, ignoring the stabbing pain at his side as he reached out with his left hand to seize her shoulder and turn her around. "Stop, I said!"

Still refusing to listen, C.C. jerked away sharply, twisting out of his grip, but for that briefest instant, he had caught a glimpse of her face, of her eyes. It had been a visage stricken with anguish, her golden eyes red-rimmed and glistening with unshed tears. This was as painful to her as it was to him – perhaps even more so, by the hurt that was in those eyes. Taken aback by that realization, Lelouch stood stunned, rooted ineffectually in place as he watched her leave, her stride quickening to little short of a run. The cave mouth was perhaps twenty steps ahead of her, delineated by the crisp border between sunlight and shade, and somehow he knew that if C.C. were to cross that threshold, she would be lost to him forever.

Lelouch drew a deep breath, and then spoke a single word, in a voice that was a clear and resonant caress, the sound lingering as it reverberated along the cave walls to cut through the noise of her footfalls. It was name, her true name, which he had overheard in her sleep so long ago, in this very same place – her name, imbued with the broad spectrum of emotions he felt welling inside him – all the affection and concern that he could muster, alongside his inevitable remorse and yearning, intertwined by threads of apprehension, distress, desperation, and perhaps more than just a little pleading. And as the echo of her name faded, silence once again settled within the cavern, a silence interrupted only by the intermittent dripping of water from the stalactites above. C.C. had stopped.

He approached her slowly, as if afraid that she might bolt at any moment, but to his relief, C.C. stood stock-still, her back to him, not flinching even when he laid his hand lightly on her left shoulder. Gently, he relieved her of her pack, setting it down off to one side. And the he took her in his arms, embracing her from behind and letting her head tuck into the curve just beneath his chin. "I'm sorry," he confessed in a low murmur, "I thought that–" He cut off with a grimace, and then shook his head lightly. "Well, it doesn't matter. If I can't be the one to grant your wish, then allow me to keep the promise I made to you, that day on the Sword of Akasha." Lelouch cleared his throat, then finished, "Your Code – I'll accept it."

Tensing at those words, C.C. remained still just a heartbeat longer, and then turned in his grasp to look up at him. Her eyes were twin pools of liquid gold, gleaming wetly in the light, and Lelouch thought he could see faint, glistening streaks running down either cheek. Unconsciously she chewed her lower lip, the hesitation plain on her features, and then asked, in a breathy, trembling voice, "Are you certain…?" Still holding her gaze, Lelouch gave her a single, deliberate nod of affirmation, and she pursed her lips, as if biting back more tears, her small white hands making fists in the fabric of his shirt to cling to him. "You refused before… why change your mind now?"

Shifting uneasily at the question, Lelouch had to avert his eyes in shame, the embarrassment made all the more obvious by the sudden flush of heat in his cheeks. When he voiced his reply, it was uneven and strained, stammered in an irregular, piecemeal fashion. "It was… selfish of me," he admitted, "…I thought that… if I couldn't have her, then I could at least… have you." Shaking his head briefly, he forced himself to look back at her, and the bitter smile matched the sad sentiment in his eyes. "But if I'm destined to lose everything, everyone who's important to me, then…" he trailed off, twisting his mouth in distaste, "…If I have to lose you, then at least I can relieve your suffering… At least I can let you die with a smile."

Burnished golden augurs scrutinized him for a long moment, her stare so piercing and intent that he felt weighed and measured to the ounce. "Very well," she breathed, and she did smile then, a small smile, accompanied by a flicker of mirth that shone through the lingering sheen of her tears. "You still have a lot to learn about women, Lelouch," she remarked in tones of wry amusement, "– not the least of which is that no woman wants to be your second choice." The fists at his chest flattened to open palms, and she gave him a firm shove, C.C. laughing lightly at the sudden surprise that flashed across his features when he stumbled back a step.

Puzzled, Lelouch watched as she knelt by her backpack, unfastening the bedroll and letting it fall to one side, forgotten, as she began to dig through the pack's contents. "What are you looking for?" he asked curiously, brows furrowing at the small box she pulled out and set beside her before going back to her rummaging. It was crafted out of dark-grained, highly polished rosewood, and was of a size with a small hardcover book, the piece accented with decorative silver scrollwork at the hinges and front latch. There were no markings on it that he could see.

A murmur of pleasure brought his gaze back up to regard her. "This," she breathed, drawing out a carefully folded bundle of white silk, edged with delicate red trim, and holding it reverently to her chest. Lelouch recognized it immediately; it was the white Chinese dress, the cheongsam, he had given her as a gift upon returning from the Chinese Federation, while they were still staying at Ashford. He flushed faintly, at the memory of what they had done when he had last seen her wearing that dress. Perhaps the same thought had crossed her own mind, as when her head tilted up to face him, there was a definite bloom of color in her cheeks. "I've been a prisoner for as long as I can remember…" she explained, offering him a nervous smile, "…but you're finally setting me free. I don't want to die while wearing a prisoner's clothes."

Lelouch considered her for a moment, and if anything, her blush deepened, but he simply nodded, extending his hand and helping her to her feet. "Would you mind turning around?" C.C. asked shyly, and he blinked, but did as she had requested, folding his arms as he waited for her to change. He hadn't intended to ogle her, certainly, but C.C. had never before expressed any reservations over allowing him to see her unclothed – she had, in fact, taken great pleasure in teasing him incessantly by lounging about in various states of undress, until he had become largely desensitized to it. That she was timid now somehow made this all the more intimate, what with him listening as she shed her clothes: to the rustle of fabric, the sound of zippers coming undone, and the hollow clink of metal buckles as the restraint suit fell to the floor. "All right," she said finally, after the telltale signs of movement behind him had ceased, "You can look now."

He turned to find C.C. standing barefoot amidst the pile of her discarded clothes – she had even taken off her boots – her eyes downcast and her hands folded nervously at her waist. The dress fit her very snugly, showing off her curves to full advantage, and the white silk, just a shade lighter than her own creamy skin, complemented her complexion beautifully. He took a step toward her, cupping her chin in one hand and tilting it up toward him. "You're stunning," he confessed, his look abashed, Lelouch unable to quell those insistent memories now that she was right there in front of him, wearing that dress. C.C. smiled gratefully at the compliment. She had been blushing, too. "Are you sure about this…?" he asked tentatively, letting his hand to fall.

"I am." She gave him a warm smile of assurance, though the sadness still lingered in her eyes. Lelouch pursed his lips, glancing away for a moment, and then opened his mouth as if to speak, a pained, apologetic look on his features, but she forestalled him. "It's enough," she whispered breathlessly, "…that you're keeping this promise to me, is enough, Lelouch. About the other…." Her voice trailed off, and she let out a small sigh of resignation, of sadness. "I know that you can't change how you feel."

He met her eyes and nodded once, a wry twist in his lips, Lelouch not at all taken aback that she had once again read his thoughts. "Shall we, then?" he asked, clearing his throat of the unexpected thickness in his voice. Without waiting for her answer, he pulled her close, his left hand grasping her right wrist as his right slipped to hold her at the small of her back, leaning forward and dipping her backward – in the same pose with which his father had held her, on the Sword of Akasha. Her eyes widened, but she recovered quickly, an amused smile flickering in her features as she allowed herself be dipped, her free hand settling on his chest.

There was no myriad of color, no aurora of lights as he drew closer – only the luminous golden eyes that had haunted him in his dreams, filling his vision, yellow irises gleaming brilliantly as they looked up in breathless expectation. Those eyes held uncertainty as well, mixed with traces of anxiety and lingering sadness, yet what shone through above all was a barely restrained sense of hope; it was a fragile thing, as if tottering on the cusp of a dangerously high peak, where any misstep or misspoken word might upset that precarious balance and cause it to fall, plummeting to the ground.

But he gave her no reason to doubt him, and when the short distance between them became a fingerbreadth, then a hairsbreadth, she lowered her lashes, lifting her lips to meet his own. Lelouch felt her tremble at the touch – she felt like a shivering bundle of warmth in his arms – but her reticence faded quickly as she deepened the connection, sliding her hand up his chest to hook behind the nape of his neck and drawing him closer; it was a long, lingering kiss: slow and sensual, yet melancholy, in its own way, for it was a kiss of farewell.

But it was over too soon, and when he opened his eyes, C.C. was staring up at him, biting her lower lip as if on the brink of tears, her features a blend of wonder and elation, of gratitude and relief. "Thank you…" she whispered breathlessly, her hand shifting to lightly touch his cheek with her fingertips. "Thank you, Lelouch."

He returned her smile, but the gesture never touched the solemn sadness in his eyes. "It's done, then…?" he said in half-question, straightening and drawing her up with him to allow her to get her balance.

She seemed to sense his mood, and her smile faded, gaze lowering to the floor. "There's just one last thing left to do." Her attention shifted to the carved wooden box she had set aside earlier, when she had been looking for the dress, and she bent to retrieve it, considering it for a long moment before glancing back up toward him. "But not here." Stretching out her arms, the box held lightly in one hand, C.C. asked with a playful smile, "…Carry me outside?"

Lelouch narrowed his eyes at the request, but acquiesced – she was barefoot, after all – scooping her up with one arm around her slim waist and the other at the back of her knees. Though her right hand still held the rosewood case clutched to her chest, her left slipped around his shoulders, holding onto him tightly. She was lighter than Kallen, yet he still struggled for the first few steps, and her brow arched doubtfully at his unsteadiness, but he gained his balance and carried her the rest of the way out of the tunnel, crossing the threshold between darkness and daylight. Oddly, the wound at his side had hardly given him a twinge.

It took a moment to blink away the sudden glare shone down on him, what with the sun nearly halfway to its noonday peak, clearing the tree-topped mountains to the east. The entrance to the cave was surrounded by rocky outcroppings, interspersed with shrubbery and trees as mountains yielded to forest. A broad clearing opened up not far from where they were, but even from this distance, he could see that the earth had been torn and gashed, although the land was showing signs of recovery – remnants of the Battle of Narita, from what seemed so long ago.

"There," she said, gesturing toward a large gray stone that sat aslant, "Bring me there." Taking care to check his footing given the uneven ground, Lelouch picked his way toward the boulder, hefting her in his arms only once to adjust his hold on her. She eyed him askance again, apparently disliking having been jostled, for when they reached the slanted rock and he set her on her feet, she stood just long enough to push him down, forcing him to sit with his back against the stone, and then promptly settled herself on his lap.

"And now, for the last…" she murmured to herself as she ran her hands along the outline of the rosewood box. A fingertip undid the small front latch and she carefully lifted the lid, revealing a bed of green velvet, cut to shape around a silver syringe. The device was already loaded with a dark gray glass vial, and two identical vials rested in their own cutouts beside it. He recognized the syringe, having come across its like before, but he doubted that it was Refrain that those vials held.

"Will it be painful for you…?" he asked in a voice that held no small amount of concern. Her features were smooth as she traced a fingertip over the loaded cartridge, thoughts unreadable.

After a moment she shook her head, as if just then registering the question, and took the syringe in hand, sweeping back the green tresses of her hair to expose the side of her throat. "A small dose will make you sleep," she explained quietly, shutting her eyes and wincing a bit as the needle pierced her skin, the vial emptying its contents when she depressed the plunger. "But with this much, I will not wake." Letting out a long breath, C.C. offered him a half-hearted smile, meeting his gaze once again. "Now, your turn." Numbly, Lelouch watched as she replaced the spent cartridge, then raised the syringe to his neck. He hardly noticed the prick of the needle, but he felt the effects almost immediately – warmth radiating throughout his body as the chemical coursed in his veins.

But the tightness in his chest had nothing to do with the drug; after she returned the syringe to its case, he took the box out of her grasp and set it aside, holding her closer with one arm encircling her waist, while the hand of the other slipped to the back of her head, cradling her to him. "Is this really a mercy…?" he said quietly to himself, and she let out a small sigh, settling herself more comfortably in his embrace.

"It is." She laid her hand on his chest, as if to feel his heartbeat. "Perhaps you'll understand, one day, when you've lived as long as I have." Was that heartbeat slowing…? The heat had already suffused through him, and she felt just as warm beneath his touch. "But what you said, before – you're wrong." Her words were a soft, sleepy murmur, spoken under her breath. "You don't have to lose everything – you wouldn't have to lose her. Surely you must have considered it… to have immortality for yourself, and the power to bestow it upon another…?"

Frowning in an attempt to focus his thoughts, Lelouch tilted his head, looking down at her. She had closed her eyes, but her features were smooth, bearing no trace of mocking or cynicism; she had meant what she said. He blinked, trying to banish away the haziness; in truth, the thought _had_ crossed his mind, only to be rejected just as quickly, on largely the same grounds that had led him to the realization that even letting Kallen know he was alive would be a mistake. "You know that would never work," he said slowly, his voice thick, "…you should know better than anyone." The greatest gift he could offer Kallen was to allow her to lead her own life – a normal life. Possessing two Codes would not sway him in that.

"Perhaps you're right." She sighed softly, nestling her head against his shoulder and letting her hand fall away to settle in her lap. "Perhaps I thought of it only because it… pains me, knowing that you'll be as alone as I was, throughout the decades. Until there's nothing left for you but to find someone else to bear your burden of immortality. But you're strong, Lelouch – stronger than I ever was. The years may not change you as they did me." C.C. paused for a moment, but added, in a whisper so soft that he only barely caught the words, "…and when we meet again, in the next life, perhaps I will be the one you choose."

And then silence fell between them, a quiet disrupted only by the mournful sound of the wind as it swept through the treetops. He felt exhausted, his limbs leaden, unable to move them even if he had cause to, and his wits felt muddled, as though a thick blanket had been drawn over his mind. To his surprise, one clear thought rose to the surface of that haze, and he voiced it, though it came out in a thick slur. "After you're gone, how do you want me to…." He trailed off, clearing his throat and furrowing a brow, "… I mean, what should I do with your…." There was really no delicate way to put it.

C.C. understood, however, despite his difficulty at saying the words, and laughed softly into his chest – a low, throaty laugh, full of amusement and genuine mirth. "I'm a witch, Lelouch," she murmured, as if the answer were the most obvious in the world, "…give me up to the flame." And then his eyes drifted shut, with the memory of her laugh echoing in his mind.

* * *

When he woke, he was alone – well and truly alone. And on his left palm, in mirror image to the sigil on his right, he found the Code, inscribed indelibly into his flesh, as if a part of his skin.

Throughout the morning and into the afternoon, he toiled, building up a funeral pyre from the heavy branches and fallen timbers scattered throughout the surrounding forest. When it was done, he did as she had asked, and surrendered her body to the flames.

* * *

**Epilogue**

Hefting the overstuffed grocery bag onto her left hip to balance out the one already resting on her right, Kallen glanced back over her shoulder, having to crane her neck a bit to peer around the stout leaves of a thick, green leek. Her gaze found the tall, fair-haired Britannian by the checkout stand a few paces behind, with little Naoto in a baby carrier strapped to his chest. He was waving a brightly colored rattle in front of the infant who reached for it with chubby fingers, gurgling happily.

Noticing her looking at him, Gino's smile widened to an even toothier grin. Kallen only scowled. The man vexed her to no end. It was very much like him, to be playing around with Ougi and Villetta's baby while all of the hard work and heavy lifting was left to her. Well, that wasn't quite fair – he _was_ better with the baby than she. Still, it wouldn't have hurt to have helped her with some of the shopping, at least.

Easing the bags into a less precarious position and almost dropping one in the process, Kallen cursed having ever accepted to run this errand on Villetta's behalf. Since the wedding, the dark-skinned woman had taken it into her head to play matchmaker for herself and Gino, whenever he was in Japan, which seemed to be happening more often of late. She knew that they were all just thinly veiled attempts to set them up together, but now that she had graduated from Ashford, fewer and fewer excuses to get out of them came to mind. Saying that she was studying for her medical school entrance exams could only go so far. But this errand was nearly over, and she was looking forward to the reprieve it would grant – more than two weeks, certainly. Well, at least two weeks. Surely that.

"So? Are you coming?" she asked flatly, brows drawn down in disapproval. That ridiculous grin never wavered, and he nodded, gesticulating gleefully to the baby with the rattle. Kallen couldn't tell if he was actually _unaware_ that she had no interest in him whatsoever, or whether he only _affected_ not to notice, but either way he never relented, always maintaining that flirty and playful attitude whenever he was with her. It grated on her nerves. She supposed that he would be considered handsome by most women – according to the rumors she had heard, Gino had established quite a following at Ashford, though his attendance there was brief – and he was tall and broad shouldered, with a wide smile and an easy laugh, but all of that counted for little in Kallen's book. It wasn't his fault, not really. He just wasn't Lelouch.

Bags in each arm, Kallen hurried through the sliding doors at the grocery store's entrance, but had to halt just beneath the store's overhanging eaves. The air had been hot and humid upon entering, and now the sky had decided to open up, letting loose a thick torrent of heavy rain that pelted the busy street outside. She scowled again, though her anger was direct more toward herself than to him. In her haste to be off and done with this errand, she hadn't checked the weather report, much less given a thought to bringing an umbrella along.

"Should I call a taxi?" Gino asked from behind her, giving one look to the weather and frowning briefly before turning his attention back to her and brightening almost instantly. At least _he_ hadn't brought an umbrella, either – there was some comfort in that.

"It's just a summer storm," she replied, glancing to the sky, "It'll pass in a few minutes." But much to her chagrin, the rain persisted, for five minutes, and then ten, her mood growing darker with the darkening sky. Very wisely, Gino said nothing, and little Naoto seemed content to play with the rattle in his hands.

Kallen was starting to reconsider hailing a taxi – she was up on her tip toes, scanning up and down the length of the avenue for the next one that was free, though many other pedestrians seemed to have the same idea – when her gaze fell on him: a tall young man cloaked in black who stood at an intersection, beneath an unlit streetlight, up the road, oblivious to both the pouring rain and the river of umbrellas flowing past him. A man whom she had believed to be dead. The hair was different, longer than she had remembered, but there was no mistaking his face, or his eyes, staring at her so intently that she wondered how she had missed it before. Abruptly, as if realizing his presence known, the man pivoted, mingling smoothly with the throng of people crossing to the next street.

Her shock at seeing him lasted only a moment longer, and she turned, taking a quick step toward a surprised Gino and thrusting the bags into his arms. Naoto abandoned the rattle, reaching instead for the access key to her Guren, which she wore perpetually around her neck, nestled in her cleavage, but Kallen she pulled away before the baby could take hold. "I'm sorry!" she shouted over her shoulder, "Don't wait for me!" And then she was running, paying the rain no heed even as it soaked through her clothes, her footfalls splashing through puddles on the sidewalk as she wove in between the milling stream of umbrellas, racing after the figure in black, with Gino's voice called ineffectually behind her. She did not know how it could be possible, but her mind was not deceiving her; that had been him, she was sure of it… he was alive!

* * *

Rounding the next corner and ducking quickly into a narrow alley, Lelouch stopped a moment, panting, one hand extended to support himself against the side of a building as he caught his breath. The hand became a fist, and he ignored the pain as his knuckles connected solidly with the concrete wall.

This had been a mistake – a grave mistake. He knew that now, and knew it all too well, in truth. He had been naïve, coming back here – back to Japan. More than anything, what had driven him to return was the desire for closure – to see her, if only from a distance, one more time, as the last act in laying to rest the life he had lived before inheriting his Codes. And he had had his fill.

What did he expect – that she would remain true to the memory of a dead lover, more than a year after his death? It was ridiculous and selfish of him to assume so, and further, it wasn't what he had wanted for her. A chance for a normal life – that was his final gift, and the fact that she had embraced that new life was not something he would hold against her. Still, it did rankle, just a bit, seeing her together with Gino – he would have thought her to have better taste in men.

But her choice in his replacement was a trivial matter, when compared to the other reason he could not turn that one last look, from a distance, into something more. And that reason was her baby – their baby? – strapped to Gino's chest. Given what he had done with Kallen, he should have considered the possibility that she would end up with child, but to his slight embarrassment it had never actually crossed his mind. And that child made all the difference, firmly stamping out any half-formed notions of meeting with her; by necessity, he was forced to deprive that child of its real father, so how he risk the same of its mother?

Straightening, Lelouch pushed himself off the wall with his fist and began to walk down the length of the deserted alley. When their eyes had met, he thought he had seen recognition in her features, but he could still limit that damage, if he disappeared entirely now, as he should have a year ago. After her search turned up no trace of him, she would begin to question her certainty, and in time it would fade away in memory and perhaps forgotten entirely, dismissed as a trick of the mind.

He laughed darkly, the sound chilling, and without mirth. The rain had not stopped, still pelting in thick, heavy sheets, but the weather suited his mood. In exchange for using his Geass on others, he had been prepared to die, but this was far more fitting a punishment: to be cursed not once, but twice, to wander the world eternally, alone and friendless, having lost the two women closest to him. Yes, it was a very fitting punishment, indeed.

Abruptly he became aware of splashing footsteps closing in quickly from behind him, and he turned instinctively, just before being tackled bodily to the ground, shoulders hitting the paved alley floor with a hard jolt. And when he looked up, he found Kallen, straddling him with her knees to either sides of his hips, her hands on his shoulders, pinning him in place; she was panting, a look of breathless exuberance on her features, her dark red hair clinging to the sides of her face in the rain. She looked… beautiful.

"Really, Lelouch," she began with a smile, the sapphire eyes he had missed so much now radiant despite welling tears, "…did you think you could get away from me that easily?"

End.

* * *

Afterword for "The Castaway Prince"

It's been just under two years since I began this story, so I'm glad that I've finally been able to bring it to a close. This ending has been rolling around in my head for a long, long time, and it's a satisfying feeling, to at last have it down on paper and out there for you guys to read. Thank you all for bearing with me, and sticking with the story, despite the lengthy waits between chapters.

As for future plans… I'm most likely finished with the Code Geass fandom. I say "most likely" rather than "definitely" since I have a vague inclination to write a future fic, which could be considered a sequel to "The Castaway Prince" (albeit not a direct continuation). The potential for this sequel was one of the reasons for the open-ended nature of my ending, and among other things, it would answer the question that everyone wants to know: did they end up together, or not? It's still very much in the conceptual stages, and likely nothing will come out of it, but if I can think up/flesh out a few major plotlines to drive the story, then I might throw out a chapter or two and see where things go from there. It wouldn't be a lemon. I know, you're disappointed.

I'd like to keep writing, but there currently isn't a fandom out there that interests me as much as Code Geass did. Still, I'm open to recommendations, and I'll check out anything with similarly deep character development, and perhaps a love triangle/harem thrown in. Let me know what you've got.

I guess that's it, for now. Again, I hope you enjoyed the fic, and with luck I'll have something new put out for your consideration at a later date.

-ClockMaker411


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